UBRARYOFPfUNOETON 


DEC  I  9  2003 


THEOiX)GICALSQyiniARy 


BS  1325  .B6344 

Blaikie,  William  Garden, 

1820-1899. 
The  second  book  of  Samuel 


THE    SECOND    BOOK 


SAMUEL. 


BY  THB   REV.    PROFESSOR 


W.     G.     BLAIKIE,     D.D.,     LL.D., 

New  College,  Edinburgh, 


NEW  YORK: 

A.    C.    ARMSTRONG    AND    SON, 

714,  BROADWAY. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  I. 

;  PAGB 

David's  lament  for  saul  and  Jonathan        «       -       -      i 

CHAPTER   n. 
beginning  of  David's  reign  at  hebron  ]-       -       -       -    14 

CHAPTER   HI. 

.ING   of   civil   war     -------26 

CHAPTER  IV. 

LUSION   OF   CIVIL  WAR-  -  -  -  -  "     3^ 

CHAPTER   V. 

ASSASSINATION   OF  ABNER  AND   ISHBOSHETH  -  -  -      50 

CHAPTER  VI. 
DAVID   KING   OF  ALL   ISRAEL  ------     62 

CHAPTER   VII. 

'E   KINGDOM   ESTABLISHED  ------      7-3 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

PAC 

THE  ARK   BROUGHT   UP  TO  JERUSALEM  -  -  -  -      f 

CHAPTER   IX. 
PROPOSAL  TO   BUILD   A  TEMPLE     ------ 

CHAPTER   X.  ■  ,' 

FOREIGN   WARS     ---------    I09 

CHAPTER   XI. 
ADMINISTRATION   OF  THE   KINGDOM         -  -  -  -  -121 

,i 
CHAPTER   XII.  j 

DAVID   AND   MEPHIBOSHETH  -  ------   134 

CHAPTER   XIII.  ] 

DAVID   AND   HANUN        --------   146-^    ] 

CHAPTER   XIV.  I 

I 
DAVID  AND   URIAH  --------   158     ;^ 

\ 

CHAPTER   XV.  ^ 

DAVID   AND   NATHAN      -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -16, 

CHAPTER   XVI.  \ 

PENITENCE   AND   CHASTISEMENT     ------ 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

ABSALOM    AND   AMNON  ------- 


CO.VTEXTS. 


vu 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 
SSALOM    BANISHED   AND    BROUGHT    BACK      -  -  -  -   205  | 

CHAPTER   XIX  I 

salom's  revolt      -       -        -        -        -       -        -       -217  I" 

CHAPTER   XX.  I 

i 

David's  flight  from  Jerusalem       -----  229  I 

CHAPTER   XXI.  I 

FROM   JERUSALEM    TO    M  AH  AN  AIM  -  -  -  -  -   24 1 

CHAPTER    XXII.  I 

i 

ABSALOM    IN    COUNCIL   --------   253  \ 

•    j 
t 
CHAPTER    XXIII. 

ABSALOM'S   DEFEAT   AND    DEATH    ------    265 

CHAPTER   XXIV.  j": 

DAVID  S   GRIEF   FOR   ABSALOM  ----,.   2/7  1 

I 

CHAPTER   XXV.  I 


HE    RESTORATION 


2l 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

ID    AND   BARZILLAI  -  -  -  -  -  -  -30I 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 
SURRECTION    OF   SHEBA       -  -  -  ^  ^  "jU 


viii  CONTENTS.  Y 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

FAGS 
THE   FAMINE  -------*-  326 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

LAST   BATTLES   AND   THE   MIGHTY   MEN  -  -  -  -  338 

CHAPTER   XXX. 

THE  SONG   OF  THANKSGIVING  ------   350 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 
THE   LAST  WORDS   OF   DAVID  ------  363 


CHAPTER   XXXII.  ^ 

THE  NUMBERING   OF   ISRAEL  ------   376 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
THE  TWO   BOOKS   OF  SAMUEL  --..---  388 


CHAPTER   I. 

DAVID'S  LAMENT  FOR  SAUL  AND  JONATHAN. 

2  Samuel  i. 

DAVID  had  returned  to  Ziklag  from  the  slaughter 
of    the   Amalekites    only   two    days   before    he 
heard  of  the  death  of  Saul.     He  had  returned  weary 
enough,  we  may  believe,  in  body,  though  refreshed  in 
spirit  by  the  recovery  of  all  that  had  been  taken  away, 
and  by  the  possession  of  a  vast  store  of  booty  besides. 
But  in  the  midst  of  his  success,  it  was  discouraging  to 
see  nothing  but  ruin  and  confusion  where  the  homes  of 
himself  and  his  people  had  recently  been  ;  and  it  must 
have  needed   no  small   effort  even  to  plan,  and  much 
more  to  execute,  the  reconstruction  of  the  city.     But 
besides  this,  a  still  heavier  feeling  must  have  oppressed 
"lim.     What  had  been  the  issue  of  that  great  battle  at 
lount  Gilboa  ?     Which  army  had  conquered  ?     If  the 
sraelites  w^ere  defeated,  what  would  be  the  fate  of  Saul 
id  Jonathan  ?     Would  they  be  prisoners  now  in  the 
ands  of  the  Philistines  ?     And  if  so,  what  would  be 
's  duty  in  regard  to  them  ?     And  what  course  would 
it  be  best  for  him  to  take  for  the  welfare  of  his  ruined 
and  distracted  country  ? 

He  was  not  kept  long  in  suspense.  An  Amalekite 
*om  the  camp  of  Israel,  accustomed,  like  the  Bedouin 
enerally,   to  long   and  rapid  runs,  arrived  at  Ziklag, 

VOL.    IJ.  I 


THE  SECOND   BOOK  OE  SAMUEL. 


bearing  on  his  body  all  the  tokens  of  a  disaster,  and 
did  obeisance  to  David,  as  now  the  legitimate  occupant 
of  the  throne.  David  must  have  surmised  at  a  glance 
how  matters  stood.  His  questions  to  the  Amalekite 
elicited  an  account  of  the  death  of  Saul  materially 
different  from  that  given  in  a  former  part  of  the  history, 
'*  As  I  happened  by  chance  upon  Mount  Gilboa,  behold 
Saul  leaned  upon  his  spear ;  and  lo,  the  chariots  and 
the  horsemen  followed  hard  after  him.  And  when  he 
looked  behind  him,  he  saw  me  and  called  unto  me. 
And  I  answered,  Here  am  I.  And  he  said  unto  me, 
Who  art  thou  ?  And  I  answered  him,  I  am  an  Amalek- 
ite. And  he  said  unto  me.  Stand,  I  pray  thee,  beside 
me,  and  slay  me,  for  anguish  hath  taken  hold  of  me  : 
because  my  life  is  yet  whole  in  me.  So  I  stood  beside 
him  and  slew  him,  because  I  was  sure  that  he  could 
not  live  after  that  he  was  fallen ;  and  I  took  the  crown 
that  was  upon  his  head,  and  the  bracelet  that  was  upon 
his  arm,  and  have  brought  them  hither  to  my  lord." 
There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  this  narrative  of 
Saul's  death,  in  so  far  as  it  differs  from  the  previous 
one,  is  correct.  That  this  Amalekite  was  somehow 
near  the  place  where  Saul  fell,  and  that  he  witnessed 
all  that  took  place  at  his  death,  there  is  no  cause  to 
doubt.  That  when  he  saw  that  both  Saul  and  his 
armour-bearer  were  dead  he  removed  the  crown  and 
the  bracelet  from  the  person  of  the  fallen  king,  and 
stowed  them  away  among  his  own  accoutrements,  may 
likewise  be  accepted  without  any  difficulty.  Then, 
managing  to  escape,  and  considering  what  he  would 
do  with  the  ensigns  of  royalty,  he  decided  to  carry 
them  to  David.  To  David  he  accordingly  brought 
them,  and  no  doubt  it  was  to  ingratiate  himself  the 
more  with    him,   and   to   establish  the   stronger  claim 


i.]    DA  VID'S  LAMENT  FOR   SA  UL   AND  JON  A  THAN.      3 


to  a  splendid  recompense,  that  he  invented  the  story  of  f 

Saul  asking  him  to  kill  him,  and  of  his  complying  with  | 

the  king's  order,  and    thus   putting   an   end  to  a  Hfe  | 

which  already  was  obviously  doomed.  | 

In  his  belief  that  his  pretended  despatching  of  the  | 

king  would  gratify  David,  the  Amalekite  undoubtedly  | 

reckoned  without  his  host ;   but  such  things  were   so  -i  ; 

common,  so  universal  in  the  East,  that  we  can  hardly 
divest  ourselves  of  a  certain  amount  of  compassion  for 
him.  Probably  there  was  no  other  kingdom,  round 
and  round,  where  this  Amalekite  would  not  have  found 
that  he  had  done  a  wise  thing  in  so  far  as  his  own 
interests  were  concerned.  For  helping  to  despatch  a 
rival,  and  to  open  the  way  to  a  throne,  he  would 
probably  have  received  cordial  thanks  and  ample  gifts 
from  one  and  all  of  the  neighbouring  potentates.  To 
David,  the  matter  appeared  in  a  quite  different  light. 
He  had  none  of  that  eagerness  to  occup}^  the  throne  on 
which  the  Amalekite  reckoned  as  a  universal  instinct 
of  human  nature.  And  he  had  a  view  of  the  sanctity 
of  Saul's  X\i^  which  the  Amalekite  could  not  understand. 
His  being  the  Lord's  anointed  ought  to  have  withheld 
this  man  from  hurting  a  hair  of  his  head.  Sadly 
though  Saul  had  fallen  back,  the  divinity  that  doth 
hedge  a  king  still  encompassed  him.  "  Touch  not 
mine  anointed  "  was  still  God's  word  concerning  him. 
This  miserable  Amalekite,  a  member  of  a  doomed  race, 
appeared  to  David  by  his  own  confession  not  only  a 
murderer,  but  a  murderer  of  the  deepest  dye.  He  had 
destroyed  the  life  of  one  who  in  an  eminent  sense  was 
"  the  Lord's  anointed."  He  had  done  what  once  and 
again  David  had  himself  shrunk  from  doing.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  David  was  at  once  horrified  and  provoked, 
— horrified  at  the  unblushing  criminality  of  the  man  ; 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 


provoked  at  his  effrontery,  at  his  doing  without  the 
slightest  compunction  what,  at  an  immense  sacrifice,  he 
had  twice  restrained  himself  from  doing.  No  doubt 
he  was  irritated,  too,  at  the  bare  supposition  on  which 
the  Amalekite  reckoned  so  securely,  that  such  a  black 
deed  could  be  gratifying  to  David  himself.  So  without 
a  moment's  hesitation,  and  without  allowing  the  as- 
tonished youth  a  moment's  preparation,  he  caused  an 
attendant  to  fall  upon  him  and  kill  him.  His  sentence 
was  short  and  clear,  '' Thy  blood  be  upon  t!.y  head  ^ 
for  thy  mouth  hath  testified  against  thee  saying,  I  have 

slain  the  Lord's  anointed."  

In  this  incident  we  find  David  in  a  position  irt  which 
good  men  are  often  placed,  who  profess  to  have  regard 
to  higher  principles  than  the  men  of  the  world  in  regu- 
lating their  lives,  and  especially  in  the  estimate  which 
they  form  of  their  worldly  interests  and  considerations. 
That  such  men  are  sincere  in  the  estimate  they  thus 
profess  to  follow  is   what   the  world  is  very  slow   to 
believe.     Faith  in  any  moral  virtue  that  rises   higher 
than    the    ordinary   worldly   level    is   extremely    rare- 
among  men.    The  world  fancies  that  every  man  has  his 
price — sometimes    that    every  woman   has    her    price. 
Virtue  of  the  heroic  quality  that  will  face  death  itself 
rather  than  do  wrong  is  what  it  is  most  unv^illing  to 
believe   in.     Was   it  not    this  that   gave   rise   to    the 
memorable   trial  of  Job  ?     Did   not  the  great  enemy^ 
representing  here  the  spirit  of  the  world,   scorn    the 
notion  that  at  bottom  Job  was  in  any  way  better  than 
his  neighbours,  although  the  wonderful  prosperity  with 
which  he  had  been  gifted  made  him  appear  more  ready 
to  pay  honour  to  God  ?     It  is  all  a  matter  of  selfishness, 
was  Satan's  plea ;  take  away  his  prosperity,  and  lay  a 
painful  malady  on  his  body,  his  religion  will  vanish,  he 


i.]     DAVID'S  LAMENT  FOR  SAUL  AND  JONATHAN.      5 

will  curse  Thee  to  Thy  face.  He  would  not  give  Job 
credit  for  anything  like  disinterested  virtue — anything 
like  genuine  reverence  for  God.  And  was  it  not  on  the 
same  principle  the  tempter  acted  when  he  brought  his 
threefold  temptation  to  our  Lord  in  the  wilderness  ? 
He  did  not  believe  in. the  superhuman  virtue  of  Jesus  ; 
he  did  not  believe  in  His  unswerving  loyalty  to  truth 
and  duty.  He  did  not  believe  that  He  was  proof  at 
once  against  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of  the 
eye,  and  the  pride  of  life.  At  least  he  did  not  beheve 
till  he  tried,  and  had  to  retreat  defeated.  When  the 
end  of  Kis  life  drew  near  Jesus  could  say,  "  The  prince 
of  this  world  Cometh,  but  hath  nothing  in  Me."  There 
was  no  weakness  in  Jesus  to  which  he  could  fasten 
his   cord — no   trace   of  that  worldliness    by  which  he  \ 

had   so  often    been   able   to   entangle  and    secure   his  \ 

victims.  \, 

So  likewise  Simon  the  sorcerer  fancied  that  he  only 
eded  to  offer  money  to  the  Apostles  to  secure  from  >: 

em  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  *'Thy  money  perish 
aVith  thee  ! "  was  the  indignant  rebuke  of  Peter.  It  is 
he  same  refusal  to  believe  in  the  reality  of  high 
principle  that  has  made  so  many  a  persecutor  fancy 
that  he  could  bend  the  obstinacy  of  the  heretic  by  the 
terrors  of  suffering  and  torture.  And  on  the  other 
hand,  no  nobler  sight  has  ever  been  presented  than 
when  this  incredulous  scorn  of  the  world  has  been 
rebuked  by  the  firmness  and  triumphant  faith  of  the 
noble  martyr.  What  could  Nebuchadnezzar  have 
thought  when  the  three  Hebrew  children  were  willing 
to  enter  the  fiery  furnace  ?  What  did  Darius  think  of 
Daniel  when  he  shrank  not  from  the  lions'  den  ?  How 
many  a  rebuke  and  surprise  was  furnished  to  the  rulers 
of  this  world  in  the  early  persecutions  of  the  Christians, 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


and  to  the  champions  of  the  Church  of  Rome  in  the  \ 
splendid  defiance  hurled  against  them  by  the  Protestant 
martyrs  !  The  men  who  formed  the  Free  Church  of  ,; 
Scotland  were  utterly  discredited  when  they  affirmed  ' 
that  rather  than  surrender  the  liberties  of  their  Church 
they  would  part  with  every  temporal  privilege  which  \ 
they  had  enjoyed  from  connection  with  the  State.  \ 
Such  is  the  spirit  of  the  world  ;  if  it  will  not  rise  to  the  \ 
apparent  level  of  the  saints,  it  delights  to  pull  down  '; 
the  saints  to  its  own.  These  pretences  to  superior  \ 
virtue  are  hypocrisy  and  pharisaism  ;  test  their  profes-  ''\ 
sions  by  their  worldly  interests,  and  you  will  find  them  | 
soon  enough  on  a  level  with  yourselves.  '■■ 

The  Amalekite  that  thought  to  gratify  David  by  pre-         \ 
tending  that  he  had  slain  his  rival  had  no  idea  that  he       .■.; 
was  wronging  him;  in   his   blind  innocency  he    seems         j 
to  have  assumed  as  a  matter  of  course  that  David  would        ,' 
be  pleased.     It  is  not  Hkely  the  Amalekite  had   ever 
heard  of  David's  noble   magnanimity  in  twice  sparing 
Saul's  life  when  he  had  an  excellent  pretext  for  taking 
it,  if  his  conscience  had  allowed  him.     He  just  assumed 
that  David  would  feel  as  he  would  have  felt  himself 
He  simply  judged  of  him  by  his  own  standard.     His         i 
object  was  to  show  how  great  a  service  he  had  rendered        '  • 
him,  and  thus  establish  a  claim  to  a  great  reward.     Never 
did   heartless    selfishness   more    completely   overreach 
itself.     Instead  of  a  reward,  this  impious  murderer  had 
earned  a  fearful  punishment.     An  Israelite  might  have        ^, 
had  a  chance  of  mercy,  but  an  Amalekite  had  none — the 
man  was  condemned  to  instant  death.     One  can  hardly 
fancy  his  bewilderment, — what  a  strange  man  was  this 
David  !     What  a  marvellous  reverence  he  had  for  God ! 
To  place  him  on  a  throne  was  no  favor,  if  it  involved 
doing  anything  against  "the  Lord's  anointed!"     And        J 


i.]    DAVID'S  LAMENT  FOR   SAUL   AND  JONATHAN,      7 

yet  who  shall  say  that  in  his  estimate  of  this  proceeding 
David  did  more  than  recognize  the  obligation  of  the 
first  commandment  ?     To  him  God's  will  was  all  in  all. 

Dismissing  this  painful  episode,  we  now  turn  to  con-  I 

template  David's  conduct  after  the  intelligence  reached  | 

him  that  Saul  was  dead.     David  was  now  just  thirty  \ 

(2  Sam.  V.  4) ;  and  never  did  man  at  that  age,  or  at  any  I 

age,  act  a   finer  part.     The   death,   and   especially  the  | 

sudden  death,  of  a  relative  or  a  friend  has  usually  a  i 

remarkable  effect  on  the  tender  heart,  and  especially  in  j 

the  case  of  the  young.     It  blots  out  all  remembrance  of  I 

little   injuries   done   by  the  departed;  it  fills  one  with  ! 

regret  for  any  unkind  words  one  may  have  spoken,  or 
any  unkind  deeds  one  may  ever  have  done  to  him.     It  ■ 

makes  one  very  forgiving.     But  it  must  have  been  a  far  \ 

more  generous  heart  than  the  common  that  could  so  soon  • 

rid  itself  of  every  shred  of  bitter  feeling  toward  Saul^ —  : 

that  could  blot  out,  in  one  great  act  of  forgiveness,  the 
remembrance  of  many  long  years  of  injustice,  oppres- 
sion, and  toil,  and  leave  no  feelings  but  those  of  kindness, 
admiration,  and  regret,  called  forth  by  the  contempla- 
tion of  what  was  favourable  in  Saul's  character.     How  ; 
beautiful  does  the  spirit  of  forgiveness  appear  in  such           | 
a  light !     Yet  how  hard  do  many  feel  it  to  be  to  exercise           ; 
this  spirit   in  any   case,    far  less   in   all   cases !     How           j 
terrible  a  snare  the  unforgiving  spirit  is  liable  to  be  to           \ 
us,  and  how  terrible  an  obstacle  to  peaceful  communion           J 
with   God  !     ''  For  if  ye   forgive  not   men  their    tres-           ■• 
passes,  neither  will  your  Father  in  heaven  forgive  your           \ 
trespasses."                                                                                          | 

The  feelings  of  David  toward  Saul  and  Jonathan  were  j 

permanently  embodied   in  a  song  which  he   composed  \ 

for  the  occasion.     It  seems  to  have  been  called  "The  | 

Song  of  the  Bow,"  so  that  the  rendering  of  the  Revised  j 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


Version — "he  taught  them  the  Song  of  the  Bow/'  gives 
a  much  better  sense  than  the  old — ''  he  taught  them  the 
use  of  the  bow."     The  song  was  first  written  in  the 
book  of  Jasher ;  and  it   was  ordered   by  David  to  be 
taught  to  the  people  as  a  permanent  memorial  of  their 
king  and  his  eldest  son.     The  writing  of  such  a  song, 
the  spirit  of  admiration  and  eulogy  which  pervades  it, 
and  the  unusual  enactment  that  it  should  be  taught  to 
the   people,  show  how  far  superior  David  was  to  the 
ordinary  feelings  of  jealousy,  how  full  his  heart  was  of 
true  generosity.     There  was,   indeed,   a  political   end 
which   it  might  advance ;  it  might  conciliate   the  sup- 
porters of  Saul,  and  smooth  David's  way  to  the  throne. 
But  there  is  in  it  such   depth   and   fulness  of  feeling 
that  one  can  think  of  it  only  as  a  genuine  cardiphonia 
— a  true  voice  of  the  heart.     The  song  dwells  on  all 
that  could  be  commended  in  Saul,  and  makes  no  allusion 
to  his  faults.      His  courage  and  energy  in  war,  his  happy 
co-operation   with   Jonathan,    his   advancement  of  the 
kingdom  in  elegance  and  comfort,  are  all  duly  celebrated. 
David  appears  to  have  had  a  real  affection  for  Saul,  if 
only  it  had  been  allowed  to  bloom  and  flourish.     His 
martial  energy  had  probably  awakened  his  admiration 
before  he  knew  him  personally  ;  and  when  he  became 
his   minstrel,  his  distressed  countenance  would   excite 
his  pity,  while  his  occasional  gleams  of  generous  feeling 
would  thrill   his    heart  with    sym.pathy.     The    terrible 
effort  of  Saul  to  crush  David  was  now  at  an  end,  and 
Hke  a  lily  released  from  a  heavy  stone,  the  old  attach- 
ment bloomed  out  speedily  and  sweetly.     There  would 
be  more  true  love  in   families  and  in  the  world,  more 
of  expansive,    responsive  affection,    if  it  were  not  so 
often  stunted  by  reserve  on  the  one  hand,  and  crushed 
by  persecution  on  the  other. 


i.]    DAVID'S  LAMENT  FOR   SAUL   AND  J0NATIL4N.      9 

The  song  embalms  very  tenderly  the  love  of  Jonathan 
for  David.  Years  had  probably  elapsed  since  the  twc 
friends  met,  but  time  had  not  impaired  the  affection  and 
admiration  of  David.  And  now  that  Jonathan's  light 
was  extinguished,  a  sense  of  desolation  fell  on  David's 
heart,  and  the  very  throne  that  invited  his  occupa- 
tion seemed  dark  and  dull  under  the  shadow  cast  on 
it  by  the  death  of  Jonathan.  As  a  prize  of  earthly 
ambition  it  would  be  poor  indeed  ;  and  if  ever  it  had 
seemed  to  David  a  proud  distinction  to  look  forward 
to,  such  a  feeling  would  appear  very  detestable  when 
the  same  act  that  opened  it  up  to  him  had  deprived 
him  for  ever  of  his  dearest  friend,  his  sweetest  source 
of  earthly  joy.  The  only  way  in  which  it  was  possible 
for  David  to  enjoy  his  new  position  was  by  losing  sight 
of  himself;  by  identifying  himself  more  closely  than 
ever  with  the  people ;  by  regarding  the  throne  as  only 
a  position  for  more  self-denying  labours  for  the  good 
of  others.  And  in  the  song  there  is  evidence  of  the 
great  strength  and  activity  of  this  feeling.  The  senti- 
ment of  patriotism  burns  w^ith  a  noble  ardour ;  the 
national  disgrace  is  most  keenly  felt ;  the  thought  of 
personal  gain  from,  the  death  of  Saul  and  Jonathan  is 
entirely  swallowed  up  by  grief  for  the  public  loss. 
"  Tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish  it  not  in  the  streets  of 
Askelon ;  lest  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines  rejoice, 
lest  the  daughters  of  the  uncircumcised  triumph  !  "  In 
David's  view,  it  is  no  ordinary  calamity  that  has  fallen 
on  Israel.  It  is  no  common  men  that  have  fallen,  but 
''  the  beauty  of  Israel,"  her  ornament  and  her  glory, 
men  that  were  never  known  to  flinch  or  to  flee  from 
battle,  men  that  were  "  swifter  than  eagles,  and  stronger 
than  lions.''  It  is  not  in  any  obscure  corner  that  they 
have  fallen,  but  "on  her  high  places,"  on  Mount  Gilboa, 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  CF  SAMUEL, 


at    the    head    of  a   most   conspicuous  and  momentous  ' 

enterprise.  Such  a  national  loss  was  unprecedented 
in  the  history  of  Israel,  and  it  seems  to  have  affected  { 

David  and   the  nation   generally    as  the    slaughter    at 
Flodden  affected  the  Scots,  when  it  seemed  as  if  all  that         \ 
was  great  and  beautiful  in  the  nation  perished — '^the         J 
flowers  o'  the  forest  were  a'  weed  awa'."  1. 

A  word  on  the  general  structure  of  this  song.     It  is  ; 

not  a  song  that  can  be  classed  with  the  Psalms.     Nor 
can  it  be  said  that  in  any  marked  degree  it  resembles 
the  tone  or  spirit  of  the  Psalms.     Yet   this  need  not         ^| 
surprise  us,  nor  need  it  throw  any  doubt  either  as  to  ' 

the  authorship  of  the    song  or  the  authorship  of  the         "* 
Psalms.  The  Psalms,  we  must  remember,  were  avowedly  V 

composed  and  designed  for  use  in  the  worship  of  God.  <f' 

If  the  Greek  term  psalmoi  denotes  their  character,  they  ', 

were  songs  designed  for  use  in  public  worship,  to  be  < 

accompanied  with  the  lyre,  or  harp,  or  other  musical  '-, 

instruments  suitable  for  them.     The  special  sphere  of  ^ 

such   songs   was — the    relation  of  the  human  soul  to  \ 

God.    These  songs  might  be  of  various  kinds — historical,  I 

lyrical,    dramatical ;    but    in    all   cases   the    paramount  \ 

subject  was,  the  dealings  of  God  with  man,  or  the 
dealings^  of  man  with   God.      It  was  in   this   class  of  / 

composition  that  David  excelled,  and  became  the  organ  \ 

of  the    Holy    Ghost    for   the    highest    instruction   and  • 

edification  of  the  Church  in  all  ages.     But  it  does  not  / 

by  any  means  follow  that  the  poetical  compositions  of  j 

David  were  restricted  to  this  one  class  of  subject. 
His  muse  may  sometimes  have  taken  a  different  course. 
His  poems  were  not  always  directly  rehgious.  In  the 
case  of  this  song,  whose  original  place  in  the  book 
of  Jasher  indicated  its  special  character,  there  is  no 
mention  of  the  relation  of  Saul  and  Jonathan  to  God. 


i.J     DAVID'S  LAMENT  FOR   SAUL  AND  JONATHAN,     il 


The    theme  is,   their  services   to  the  nation,    and   the 
national  loss  involved  in  their  death.     The  soul  of  the 
poet  is    profoundly   thrilled  by   their  death,  occurring 
in  such  circumstances  of  national  disaster.      No  form 
of  words  could  have  conveyed  more  vividly  the  idea  of 
unprecedented  loss,  or  thrilled  the  nation  with  such  a 
sense  of  calamity.     There  is  not  a  line  of  the  song  but 
is  full  of  life,  and  hardly  one  that  is  not  full  of  beauty. 
What  could  more  touchingly  indicate  the  fatal  nature 
of  the  calamity  than  that  plaintive  entreaty— "Tell  it 
not  in  Gath,  publish  it  not  in  the  streets  of  Askelon  "  ? 
How  could  the  hills  be  more  impressively  summoned 
to  show  their  sympathy  than  in  that  invocation  of  ever- 
lasting sterility — "Ye  mountains   of  Gilboa,  let  there 
be  no  dew,  neither  let  there  be  rain  upon  you,  or  fields 
of  offerings  "  ?     What  gentler  veil  could  be  drawn  over 
the  horrors  of  their  bloody  death  and  mutilated  bodies 
than  in  the  tender  words,  ''Saul  and  Jonathan  were 
loving  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,  and  in  their  deaths 
they  were  not  divided  "  ?    And  what  more  fitting  theme 
for  tears  could  have  been  furnished  to  the  daughters 
of  Israel,  considering  Vv^hat  was  probably  the  prevalent 
taste,  than  that  Saul  had  ''  clothed   them  with  scarlet 
and  other  delights,  and  put  on  ornaments  of  gold  upon 
their  apparel"?     Up  to  this  point  Saul  and  Jonathan 
are  joined  together ;  but  the  poet  cannot  close  without 
a  special  lamentation   for  himself  over  him  whom  he 
loved  as  his  own  soul.     And    in  one  line  he  touches 
the  very  kernel  of  his  (?wn  loss,  as  he  touches  the  very 
core  of  Jonathan's  heart — ''tliy  love  to  me  was  wonder- 
ful, passing  the  love  of  women."     Such  is  the  Song  of 
the  Bow.     It  hardly  seems  suitable  to  attempt  to  draw 
spiritual  lessons  out  of  a  song,  which,  on  purpose,  was 
placed  in  a  different  category.     Surely  it  is  enough  to 


12  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

point  out  the  exceeding  beauty  and  generosity  of  spirit 
which  sought  in  this  way  to  embalm  the  memory  and 
perpetuate  the  virtues  of  Saul  and  Jonathan;  which 
blended  together  in  such  melodious  words  a  deadly 
enemy  and  a  beloved  friend ;  which  transfigured  one 
of  the  lives  so  that  it  shone  with  the  lustre  and  the 
beauty*  of  the  other ;  which  sought  to  bury  every  painful 
association^  and  gave  full  and  unlimited  scope  to  the 
charity  th«t  thinketh  no  evil.  De  mortuis  nil  nisi  bonuniy 
was  a  heathen  maxim, — "  Say  nothing  but  what  is  good 
of  the  dead."  Surely  no  finer  exempHfication  of  the 
maxim  was  ever  given  than  in  this  "  Song  of  the 
Bow." 

To  '^  thoughts  that  breathe  and  words  that  burn/' 
like  those  of  this  song,  David  could  not  have  given 
expression  without  having  his  whole  soul  stirred  with 
the  desire  to  repair  the  national  disaster,  and  by  God's 
help  bring  back  prosperity  and  honour  to  Israel.  Thus, 
both  by  the  afflictions  that  saddened  his  heart  and  the 
stroke  of  prosperity  that  raised  him  to  the  throne,  he 
was  impelled  to  that  course  of  action  which  is  the  best 
safeguard  under  God  against  the  hurtful  influences  both 
of  adversity  and  prosperity.  AfQiction  might  have 
driven  him  into  his  shell,  to  think  only  of  his  own 
comfort ;  prosperity  might  have  swollen  him  with  a 
sense  of  his  importance,  and  tempted  him  to  expect 
universal  admiration; — both  would  have  made  him  unfit 
to  rule ;  by  the  grace  of  God  he  was  preserved  from 
both.  He  was  induced  to  gird  himself  for  a  course  of 
high  exertion  for  the  good  of  his  country ;  the  spirit  of 
trust  in  God,  after  its  long  discipline,  had  a  new  field 
opened  for  its  exercise ;  and  the  self-government 
acquired  in  the  wilderness  was  to  prove  its  usefulness 
in  a  higher  sphere.    Thus  the  providence  of  his  heavenly 


i.]     DAVIDS  LAMENT  FOR  SAUL  AND  JONATHAN.     13 

Father  was  gradually  unfolding  His  purposes  con- 
cerning him  ;  the  clouds  were  clearing  off  his  horizon  ; 
and  the  "  all  things  "  that  once  seemed  to  be  ''  against 
him "  were  now  plainly  "  working  together  for  his 
good." 


CHAPTER   II 

BEGINNING  OF  DAVID'S  REIGN  AT  HEBRON 
2  Samuel  ii.  1-7. 

THE  death  of  Saul  did  not  end  David's  troubles, 
nor  was  it  for  a  good  many  years  that  he  became 
free  to  employ  his  whole  energies  for  the  good  of  the 
kingdom.  It  appears  that  his  chastisement  for  his 
unbeHeving  spirit,  and  for  the  alliance  with  Achish  to 
which  it  led,  was  not  yet  completed.  The  more  remote 
consequences  of  that  step  were  only  beginning  to  emerge, 
and  years  elapsed  before  its  evil  influence  ceased  alto- 
gether to  be  felt.  For  in  allying  himself  with  Achish, 
and  accompanying  his  army  to  the  plain  of  Esdraelon, 
David  had  gone  as  near  to  the  position  of  a  traitor  to 
his  country  as  he  could  have  gone  without  actually 
fighting  against  it.  That  he  should  have  acted  as  he 
did  is  one  of  the  greatest  mysteries  of  his  life  ;  and  the 
reason  why  it  has  not  attracted  more  notice  is  simply 
because  the  worst  consequences  of  it  were  averted  by 
his  dismissal  from  the  PhiHstine  army  through  the 
jealousy  and  suspicion  of  their  lords.  But  for  that 
step  David  must  have  been  guilty  of  gross  treachery 
either  in  one  direction  or  another ;  either  to  his  own 
countrymen,  by  fighting  against  them  in  the  Philistine 
army ;  or  to  King  Achish,  by  suddenly  turning  against 
him  in  the  heat  of  the  battle,  and  creating  a  diversion 


ii.  1-7.]   BEGINNING  OF  DA  VID S  REIGN  A  T  HEBRON.    15 

which  might  have  given  a  new  chance  to  his  country- 
men. In  either  case  the  proceeding  would  have  been 
most  reprehensible. 

But  to  his  own  countrymen  he  would  have  made 
himself  especially  obnoxious  if  he  had  lent  himself  to 
Achish  in  the  battle.  Whether  he  contemplated  trea- 
chery to  Achish  is  a  secret  that  seems  never  to  have 
gone  beyond  his  own  bosom.  All  the  appearances 
favoured  the  supposition  that  he  would  fight  against  his 
country,  and  we  cannot  wonder  if,  for  a  long  time,  this 
made  him  an  object  of  distrust  and  suspicion.  If  we 
would  understand  how  the  men  of  Israel  must  have 
looked  on  him,  we  have  only  to  fancy  how  we  should 
have  viewed  a  British  soldier  if,  with  a  troop  of  his 
countrymen,  he  had  followed  Napoleon  to  the  field  of 
Waterloo,  and  had  been  sent  away  from  the  French 
army  only  through  the  suspicion  of  Napoleon's  generals. 
In  David's  case,  all  his  former  achievements  against  the 
Philistines,  all  that  injustice  from  Saul  which  had  driven 
him  in  despair  to  Achish,  his  services  against  the 
Amalekites,  his  generous  use  of  the  spoil,  as  well  as 
his  high  personal  character,  did  not  suffice  to  counteract 
the  bad  impression  of  his  having  followed  Achish  to 
battle.  For  after  a  great  disaster  the  public  mind  is 
exasperated ;  it  is  eager  to  find  a  scapegoat  on  whom 
to  throw  the  blame,  and  it  is  unmeasured  in  its  denun- 
ciations of  any  one  who  can  be  plausibly  assailed. 
Beyond  all  doubt,  angry  and  perplexed  as  the  nation 
was,  David  would  come  in  for  a  large  share  of  the 
blame;  his  aUiance  with  Achish  would  be  denounced 
with  unmeasured  bitterness  ;  and,  probably  enough,  he 
would  have  to  bear  the  brunt  of  many  a  bitter  calumny 
in  addition,  as  if  he  had  instigated  Achish,  and  given 
him  information  which  had  helped  him  to  conquer. 


i6  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

His  own  tribe,  the  tribe  of  Judah,  was  far  the 
friendliest,  and  the  most  likely  to  make  allowance  for 
the  position  in  which  he  had  been  placed.  They  were 
his  own  flesh  and  blood  ;  they  knew  the  fierce  and 
cruel  malignity  with  which  Saul  had  hunted  him  down, 
and  they  knew  that,  as  far  as  appearances  went,  his 
chances  of  getting  the  better  of  Saul's  efforts  were 
extremely  small,  and  the  temptation  to  throw  himself 
into  the  hands  of  Achish  correspondingly  great. 
Evidently,  therefore,  the  most  expedient  course  he 
could  now  take  was  to  establish  himself  in  some  of  the 
cities  of  Judah.  But  in  that  frame  of  recovered  loyalty 
to  God  in  which  he  now  was,  he  declined  to  take  this 
step,  indispensable  though  it  seemed,  until  he  had  got 
Divine  direction  regarding  it.  ^'  It  came  to  pass,  after 
this,  that  David  inquired  of  the  Lord  saying.  Shall  I  go 
up  to  any  of  the  cities  of  Judah  ?  And  the  Lord  said 
unto  him.  Go  up.  And  David  said.  Whither  shall  I  go 
up  ?  And  He  said,  Unto  Hebron."  The  form  in 
which  he  made  the  inquiry  shows  that  to  his  mind 
it  was  very  clear  that  he  ought  to  go  up  to  one  or 
another  of  the  cities  of  Judah;  his  advisers  and 
companions  had  probably  the  same  conviction;  but 
notwithstanding,  it  was  right  and  fitting  that  no  such 
step  should  be  taken  without  his  asking  direction  from 
God.  And  let  us  observe  that,  on  this  occasion, 
prayer  was  not  the  last  resort  of  one  whom  all  other 
refuge  had  failed,  but  the  first  resort  of  one  who 
regarded  the  Divine  approval  as  the  most  essential 
element  for  determining  the  propriety  of  the  under- 
taking. 

It  is  interesting  and  instructive  to  ponder  this  fact. 
The  first  thing  done  by  David,  after  virtually  acquiring 
a  royal  position,  was   to   ask    counsel   of  God.     His 


ii.  1.7.]   BEGINNING  OF  DAVID'S  REIGN  AT  HEBRON.    17 

royal  administration  was  begun  by  prayer.  And  there 
was  a  singular  appropriateness  in  this  act.  For  the 
great  characteristic  of  David,  brought  out  especially 
in  his  Psalms,  is  the  reality  and  the  nearness  of  his 
fellowship  with  God.  We  may  find  other  men  who 
equalled  him  in  every  other  feature  of  character — who 
were  as  full  of  human  sympathy,  as  reverential,  as 
self-  denying,  as  earnest  in  their  efforts  to  please  God  and 
to  benefit  men ;  but  we  shall  find  no  one  who  lived  so 
closely  under  God's  shadow,  whose  heart  and  life  were 
so  influenced  by  regard  to  God,  to  whom  God  was  so 
much  of  a  personal  Friend,  so  blended,  we  may  say, 
with  his  very  existence.  David  therefore  is  eminently 
himself  when  asking  counsel  of  the  Lord.  And  would 
not  all  do  well  to  follow  him  in  this  ?     True,  he  had  \ 

supernatural  methods  of  doing  this,  and  you  have  only  \ 

natural ;    he  had  the  Urim  and   Thummim,  you   have  [ 

only  the  voice  of  prayer ;  but  this  makes  no  real 
difference,  for  it  was  only  in  great  national  matters 
that  he  made  use  of  the  supernatural  method ;  in  all 
that  concerned  his  personal  relations  to  God  it  was 
the  other  that  he  employed.  And  so  may  you.  But 
the  great  matter  is  to  resemble  David  in  his  profound 
sense  of  the  infinite  value  and  reality  of  Divine 
direction.  Without  this  your  prayers  will  always  be 
more  or  less  matters  of  formality.  And  being  formal, 
you  will  not  feel  that  3^ou  get  any  good  of  them.  Is  it 
really  a  profound  conviction  of  yours  that  in  every  step 
of  your  life  God's  direction  is  of  supreme  value  ?  That 
you  dare  not  even  change  your  residence  with  safety 
without  being  directed  by  Him  ?  That  you  dare  not 
enter  on  new  relations  in  life, — new  business,  new 
connections,  new  recreations — without  seeking  the 
Divine  countenance  ?    That  endless  difficulties,  troubles, 

VOL,    II. 


i8  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

complications,  are  liable  to  arise,  when  you  simply 
follow  your  own  notions  or  inclinations  without 
consulting  the  Lord  ?  And  under  the  influence  of  that 
conviction  do  you  try  to  follow  the  rule,  '^  In  all  thy 
ways  acknowledge  Him "  ?  And  do  you  endeavour 
to  get  from  prayer  a  trustful  rest  in  God,  an  assurance 
that  He  will  not  forsake  you,  a  calm  confidence  that 
He  will  keep  His  word  ?  Then,  indeed,  you  are 
treading  in  David's  footsteps,  and  you  may  expect 
to  share  his  privilege — Divine  direction  in  your  times 
of  need. 

The  city  of  Hebron,  situated  about  eighteen  miles 
to  the  south  of  Jerusalem,  was  the  place  to  which 
David  was  directed  to  go.  It  was  a  place  abounding 
in  venerable  and  elevating  associations.  It  was  among 
the  first,  if  not  the  very  first,  of  the  haunts  of  civilised 
men  in  the  land — so  ancient  that  it  is  said  to  have  been 
built  seven  years  before  Zoan  in  Egypt  (Numb.  xiii.  22). 
The  father  of  the  faithful  had  often  pitched  his  tent 
under  its  spreading  oaks,  and  among  its  olive  groves 
and  vine-clad  hills  the  gentle  Isaac  had  meditated  at 
eventide.  There  Abraham  had  watched  the  last  breath 
of  his  beloved  Sarah,  the  partner  of  his  faith  and  the 
faithful  companion  of  his  wanderings  ;  and  there  from 
the  sons  of  Heth  he  had  purchased  the  sepulchre  of 
Machpelah,  where  first  Sarah's  body,  then  his  own, 
then  that  of  Isaac  were  laid  to  rest.  There  Joseph  and 
his  brethren  had  brought  up  the  body  of  Jacob,  in 
fulfilment  of  his  dying  command,  laying  it  beside  the 
bones  of  Leah.  It  had  been  a  halting-place  of  the 
twelve  spies  when  they  went  up  to  search  the  land  ; 
and  the  cluster  of  grapes  which  they  carried  back  was 
cut  from  the  neighbouring  valley,  where  the  finest 
grapes   of  the  country  are   found    to    this  day.     The 


ii.i-7.]  BEGINNING  OF  DAVID'S  REIGN  AT  HEBRON.    19 

sight  of  its  venerable   cave    had    doubtless   served  to 

raise  the  faith  and  courage  of  Joshua  and  Caleb,  when 

the  other  spies  became  so  feeble  and  so  faithless.     In 

the  division  of  the  land  it  had  been  assigned  to  Caleb, 

one    of  the    best   and  noblest   spirits  the  nation  ever 

produced ;  afterwards  it  was  made  one  of  the  Levitical 

cities  of  refuge.     More  recently,  it  had    been  one  of 

the  places  selected  by  David  to  receive  a  portion  of  the 

Amalekite  spoil.     No  place  could  have  recalled  more 

vividly  the  lessons  of  departed  worth  and  the  victories 

of  early    faith,    or   abounded   more  in    tokens    of  the 

blessedness   of  fully    following    the   Lord.     It    was    a 

token  of  God's  kindness  to  David  that  He  directed  him 

to  make  this  city  his  headquarters.     It  was  equivalent  [ 

to   a  new  promise    that  the  God    of  Abraham  and  of  \ 

Isaac  and  Jacob  would  be  the  God  of  David,  and  that  \ 

his  public  career  would  prepare  the  way  for  the  mercies 

in    the  prospect  of  which    they  rejoiced,  and  sustain 

the  hope  to  which  they  looked  forward,  though  they  ' 

did  not  in  their  time  see  the  promise  realised. 

It  was  a  further  token  of  God's  goodness  that  no 
sooner  had  David  gone  up  to  Hebron  than  "  the  men 
of  Judah  came  and  anointed  him  king  over  the  house 
of  Judah."  Judah  was  the  imperial  or  premier  tribe, 
and  though  this  was  not  all  that  God  had  promised  to 
David,  it  was  a  large  instalment.  The  occasion  might 
well  awaken  mingled  emotions  in  his  breast— gratitude 
for  mercies  given  and  solicitude  for  the  responsibility 
of  a  royal  position.  With  his  strong  sense  of  duty, 
his  love  of  righteousness  and  hatred  of  wickedness,  we 
should  expect  to  find  him  strengthening  himself  in 
the  purpose  to  rule  only  in  the  fear  of  God.  It  is 
just  such  views  and  purposes  as  these  we  find  ex- 
pressed in  the  hundred  and  first  Psalm,  which  internal 

.     1 


20  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OP  SAMUEL. 

evidence  would  lead  us  to  assign  to  this  period  of  his 

life :— 

**  I  will  sing  of  mercy  and  of  judgment  : 
Unto  Thee,  O  Lord,  will  I  sing. 
I  will  behave  myself  wisely  in  a  perfect  way. 

0  when  wilt  Thou  come  unto  me  ? 

1  will  walk  within  my  house  with  a  perfect  heart. 
I  will  set  no  base  thing  before  mine  eyes  : 

I  hate  the  work  of  them  that  turn  aside  ; 

It  shall  not  cleave  to  me. 

A  froward  heart  shall  depart  from  me  : 

I  will  know  no  evil  thing. 

Whoso  privily  slandereth  his  neighbour,  him  will  I  destroy ; 

Him  that  hath  an  high  look  and  a  proud  heart  will  not  I  suffer. 

Mine  eyes  shall  be  upon  the  faithful  of  the  land  that  they  may 

dwell  with  me  : 
He  that  walketh  in  a  perfect  way,  he  shall  minister  unto  me. 
He  that  worketh  deceit  shall  not  dwell  within  my  house  ; 
He  that  speaketh  falsehood  shall  not  be  established  before  mine 

eyes. 
Morning  by  morning  will  I  destroy  all  the  wicked  of  the  land  j 
To  cut  off  all  the  workers  of  iniquity  from  the  city  of  the  Lord."  * 

By  a  singular  coincidence,  the  first  place  to  which 
the  attention  of  David  was  called,  after  his  taking  pos- 
session of  the  royal  position,  was  the  same  as  that  to 
which  Saul  had  been  directed  in  the  same  circumstances 
— namely,  Jabesh-gilead.  It  was  far  away  from 
Hebron,    on  the  other  side  of  Jordan,   and  quite   out 


*  From  the  use  of  the  expression  "  city  of  the  Lord,"  it  has  been 
inferred  by  some  critics  that  this  Psalm  must  have  been  written  after 
the  capture  and  consecration  of  Jerusalem.  But  there  is  no  reason  why 
Hebron  might  not  have  been  called  at  that  time  "  the  city  of  the  Lord." 
The  Lord  had  specially  designated  it  as  the  abode  of  David  ;  and  that 
alone  entitled  it  to  be  so  called.  Those  who  have  regarded  this  Psalm 
as  a  picture  of  a  model  household  or  family  have  never  weighed  the 
force  of  the  last  line,  which  marks  the  position  of  a  king,  not  a  father. 
The  Psalm  is  a  true  statement  of  the  principles  usually  followed  by 
David  in  public  rule,  but  not  in  domestic  administration. 


ii.  1-7.]  BEGINNING  OF  DA  VID'S  REIGN  AT  HEBRON.   2I 

of  the  scope  of  David's  former  activities ;  but  he 
recognised  a  duty  to  its  people,  and  he  hastened  to 
perform  it.  In  the  first  place,  he  sent  them  a  gracious 
and  grateful  message  of  thanks  for  the  kindness  shown 
to  Saul,  the  mark  of  respect  they  had  paid  him  in  bury- 
ing his  body.  Every  action  of  David's  in  reference  to 
his  great  rival  evinces  the  superiority  of  his  spirit  to 
that  which  was  wont  to  prevail  in  similar  circumstances. 
Within  the  Scriptures  themselves  we  have  instances  of 
the  dishonour  that  was  often  put  on  the  body  of  a  con- 
quered rival.  The  body  of  Jehoram,  cast  ignominiously 
by  Jehu,  in  mockery  of  his  royal  state,  into  the  vineyard 
of  Naboth,  which  his  father  Ahaz  had  unrighteously 
seized,  and  the  body  of  Jezebel,  flung  out  of  the 
window,  trodden  under  foot,  and  devoured  by  dogs 
are  instances  readily  remembered.  The  shocking  fate 
of  the  dead  body  of  Hector,  dragged  thrice  round  the 
walls  of  Troy  after  Achilles'  chariot,  was  regarded  as 
only  such  a  calamity  as  might  be  looked  for  amid  the 
changing  fortunes  of  war.  Mark  Antony  is  said  to 
have  broken  out  into  laughter  at  the  sight  of  the  hands 
and  head  of  Cicero,  which  he  had  caused  to  be  severed 
from  his  body.  The  respect  of  David  for  the  person,  of 
Saul  was  evidently  a  sincere  and  genuine  feeling ;  and 
it  was  a  sincere  pleasure  to  him  to  find  that  this  feeling 
had  been  shared  by  the  Jabeshites,  and  manifested  in 
their  rescuing  Saul's  body  and  consigning  it  to  honour- 
able burial. 

In  the  next  place,  he  invokes  on  these  people  a  glow- 
ing benediction  from  the  Lord  :  "  The  Lord  show  kind- 
ness and  truth  to  you ; "  and  he  expresses  his  purpose 
also  to  requite  their  kindnesii  himself.  "  Kindness  and 
truth."  There  is  something  instructive  in  the  combina- 
tion  of  these   two  words.     It  is  the  Hebrew  way  of 


22  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

expressing  ^^  true  kindness,"  but  even  in  that  form,  the 
words  suggest  that  kindness  is  not  always  true  kind- 
ness, and  mere  kindness  cannot  be  a  real  blessing 
unless  it  rest  on  a  solid  basis.  There  is  in  many  men 
an  amiable  spirit  which  takes  pleasure  in  gratifying  the 
feelings  of  others.  Some  manifest  it  to  children  by 
loading  them  with  toys  and  sweetmeats,  or  taking  them 
to  amusements  which  they  know  they  like.  But  it 
does  not  follow  that  such  kindness  is  always  true  kind- 
ness. To  please  one  is  not  always  the  kindest  thing 
you  can  do  for  one,  for  sometimes  it  is  a  far  kinder 
thing  to  withhold  what  will  please.  True  kindness 
must  be  tested  by  its  ultimate  effects.  The  kindness 
that  loves  best  to  improve  our  hearts,  to  elevate  our 
tastes,  to  straighten  our  habits,  to  give  a  higher  tone  to 
our  lives,  to  place  us  on  a  pedestal  from  which  we  may 
look  down  on  conquered  spiritual  foes,  and  on  the  pos- 
session of  what  is  best  and  highest  in  human  attain- 
ment,— the  kindness  that  bears  un  the  future,  and 
especially  the  eternal  future,  is  surely  far  more  true  than 
that  which,  by  gratifying  our  present  feelings,  perhaps 
confirms  us  in  many  a  hurtful  lust.  David's  prayer . 
for-the  men  of  Jabesh  was  an  enlightened  benediction  : 
''  God  show  you  kindness  and  truth."  And  so  far  as 
he  may  have  opportunity,  he  promises  that  he  will  show 
them  the  same  kindness  too. 

We  need  not  surely  dwell  on  the  lesson  which  this 
suggests.  Are  you  kindly  disposed  to  any  one  ?  You 
wish  sincerely  to  promote  his  happiness,  and  you  try 
to  do  so.  But  see  well  to  it  that  your  kindness  is  true. 
See  that  the  day  shall  never  come  when  that  which  you 
meant  so  kindly  will  turn  out  to  have  been  a  snare, 
and  perhaps  a  curse.  Think  of  your  friend  as  an 
immortal  being,  with  either  heaven  or  hell  before  him, 


ii.  1-7.J  BEGINNING  OF  DAVID'S  REIGN  AT  HEBRON   23 

and  consider  what  genuine  kindness  requires  of  you  in 
such  a  case.  And  in  every  instance  beware  of  the 
kindness  which  shakes  the  stability  of  his  principles, 
which  increases  the  force  of  his  temptations,  and 
makes  the  narrow  way  more  distasteful  and  difficult  to 
him  than  ever. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  David  was  moved  by 
considerations  of  poHcy  as  well  as  by  more  disinterested 
motives  in  sending  this  message  and  offering  this 
prayer  for  the  men  of  Jabesh-gilead.  Indeed,  in  the 
close  of  his  message  he  invites  them  to  declare  for  him, 
and  follow  the  example  of  the  men  of  Judah,  who  have 
made  him  king.  The  kindly  proceeding  of  David  was 
calculated  to  have  a  wider  influence  than  over  the  men 
of  Jabesh,  and  to  have  a  conciliating  effect  on  all  the  \ 

friends  of  the  former  king.  It  would  have  been  natural 
enough  for  them  to  fear,  considering  the  ordinary  ways 
of  conquerors  and  the  ordinary  fate  of  the  friends  of 
the  conquered,  that  David  would  adopt  very  rigid  steps 
against  the  friends  of  his  persecutors.  By  this  message 
sent  across  the  whole  country  and  across  the  Jordan, 
he  showed  that  he  was  animated  by  the  very  opposite 
spirit :  that,  instead  of  wishing  to  punish  those  who 
had  served  with  Saul,  he  was  quite  disposed  to  show 
them  favour.  Divine  grace,  acting  on  his  kindly  nature, 
made  him  forgiving  to  Saul  and  all  his  comrades,  and 
presented  to  the  world  the  spectacle  of  an  eminent 
religious  profession  in  harmony  with  a  noble  generosity. 

But  the  spirit  in  which  David  acted  towards  the 
friends  of  Saul  did  not  receive  the  fitting  return.  The 
men  of  Jabesh-gilead  appear  to  have  made  no  response 
to  his  appeal.  His  peaceable  purpose  was  defeated 
through  Abner,  Saul's  cousin  and  captain-general  of  his 
army,  who  set  up  Ishbosheth,  one  of  Saul's  sons,   as 


24  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

king  in  opposition  to  David.  Ishbosheth  himself  was 
but  a  tool  in  Abner's  hands,  evidently  a  man  of  no 
spirit  or  activity ;  and  in  setting  him  up  as  a  claimant 
for  the  kingdom,  Abner  very  probably  had  an  eye  to 
the  interests  of  himself  and  his  family.  It  is  plain  that 
he  acted  in  this  matter  in  that  spirit  of  ungodliness  and 
wilfulness  of  which  his  royal  cousin  had  given  so  many 
proofs ;  he  knew  that  God  had  given  the  kingdom  to 
David,  and  afterwards  taunted  Ishbosheth  with  the  fact 
(iii.  9)  ;  perhaps  he  looked  for  the  reversion  of  the 
throne  if  Ishbosheth  should  die,  for  it  needed  more  than 
an  ordinary  motive  to  go  right  in  opposition  to  the 
known  decree  of  God.  The  world's  annals  contain 
too  many  instances  of  wars  springing  from  no  higher 
motive  than  the  ambition  of  some  Diotrephes  to  have 
the  pre-eminence.  You  cry  shame  on  such  a  spirit ; 
but  while  you  do  so  take  heed  lest  you  share  it  your- 
selves. To  many  a  soldier  war  is  welcome  because  it 
is  the  pathway  to  promotion,  to  many  a  civilian  because 
it  gives  for  the  moment  an  impulse  to  the  business 
with  which  he  is  connected.  How  subtle  and  dan- 
gerous is  the  feeling  that  secretly  welcomes  what  may 
spread  numberless  woes  through  a  community  if  only 
it  is  likely  to  bring  some  advantage  to  ourselves  I 
O  Godj  drive  selfishness  from  the  throne  of  our  hearts, 
and  write  on  them  in  deepest  letters  Thine  own  holy 
law,  ^'  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself." 

The  place  chosen  for  the  residence  of  Ishbosheth 
was  Mahanaim,  in  the  half-tribe  of  Manasseh,  on  the 
east  side  of  the  Jordan.  It  is  a  proof  how  much  the 
Phihstines  must  have  dominated  the  central  part  of  the 
country  that  no  city  in  the  tribe  of  Benjamin  and  no 
place  even  on  the  western  side  of  the  Jordan  could  be 
obtained  as  a  royal  seat  for  the  son  of  Saul.     Surely 


ii.  1-7.]   BEGINNING  OF  DA  VID'S  REIGN  A  T  HEBRON.   25 

this  was  an  evil  omen.  Ishbosheth's  reign,  if  reign  it 
might  be  called,  lasted  but  two  short  years.  No  single 
event  took  place  to  give  it  lustre.  No  city  was  taken 
from  the  Philistines,  no  garrison  put  to  flight,  as  at 
Michmash.  No  deed  was  ever  done  by  him  or  done 
by  his  adherents  of  which  they  might  be  proud,  and  to 
which  they  might  point  in  justification  of  their  resistance 
to  David.  Ishbosheth  was  not  the  wicked  man  in 
great  power,  spreading  himself  hke  the  green  bay-tree, 
but  a  short-lived,  shrivelled  plant,  that  never  rose 
above  the  humiliating  circumstances  of  its  origin. 
Men  who  have  defied  the  purpose  of  the  Almighty  have 
often  grown  and  prospered,  like  the  little  horn  of  the 
Apocalypse ;  but  in  this  case  of  Ishbosheth  little  more 
than  one  breath  of  the  Almighty  sufficed  to  wither  him 
up.  Yes,  indeed,  whatever  may  be  the  immediate 
fortunes  of  those  who  unfurl  their  own  banner  against 
the  clear  purpose  of  the  Almighty,  there  is  but  one  fate 
for  them  all  in  the  end — utter  humiliation  and  defeat. 
Well  may  the  Psalm  counsel  all,  ^'  Kiss  ye  the  Son, 
lest  He  be  angry,  and  ye  perish  from  the  way,  if  once 
His  wrath  is  kindled  but  a  little.  Blessed  are  all  they 
that  put  their  trust  in  Him." 


CHAPTER   III. 

BEGINNING   OF  CIVIL    WAR. 
2  Samuel  ii.   12 — 32 

THE  well-meant  and  earnest  efforts  of  David  to 
ward  off  strife  and  bring  the  people  together  in 
recognising  him  as  king  were  frustrated,  as  we  have  seen, 
through  the  efforts  of  Abner.  Unmoved  by  the  solemn 
testimony  of  God,  uttered  again  and  again  through 
Samuel,  that  He  had  rejected  Saul  and  found  as  king 
a  man  after  His  own  heart ;  unmoved  by  the  sad  pro- 
ceedings at  Endor,  where,  under  such  awful  circum- 
stances, the  same  announcement  of  the  purpose  of  the 
Almighty  had  been  repeated ;  unmoved  by  the  doom  of 
Saul  and  his  three  sons  on  Mount  Gilboa,  where  such  a 
striking  proof  of  the  reahty  of  God's  judgment  on  his 
house  had  been  given ;  unmoved  by  the  miserable  state 
of  the  kingdom,  overrun  and  humiliated  by  the  Philis- 
tines and  in  the  worst  possible  condition  to  bear  the 
strain  of  a  civil  war, — this  Abner  insisted  on  setting  up 
Ishbosheth  and  endeavouring  to  make  good  his  claims 
by  the  sword.  It  was  never  seen  more  clearly  how 
"  one  sinner  destroyeth  much  good." 

As  to  the  immediate  occasion  of  the  war,  David  was 
quite  innocent,  and  Abner  alone  was  responsible ;  but 
to  a  feeling  and  patriotic  heart  like  David's,  the  war 
itself  must  have   been  the  occasion  of  bitter  distress. 


ii.  12-32.]  BEGINNING   OF  CIVIL    WAR.  27 

Did  it  ever  occur  to  him  to  think  that  in  a  sense  he 
was  now  brought,  against  his  will,  into  the  position 
which  he  had  professed  to  King  Achish  to  be  willing  to 
occupy,  or  that,  placed  as  he  now  was  in  an  attitude 
of  opposition  to  a  large  section  of  his  countrymen,  he 
was  undergoing  a  chastisement  for  what  he  was  rash 
enough  to  say  and  to  do  then  ? 

In  the  commencement  of  the  war,  the  first  step  was 
taken    by  Abner.     He  went  out    from  Mahanaim,  de- 
scended the  Jordan  valley,  and  came  to  Gibeon,  in  the 
tribe  of  Benjamin,  a  place  but  a  few  miles  distant  from 
Gibeah,    where    Saul    had    reigned.     His    immediate 
object  probably  was    to  gain  such  an  advantage  over 
David  in  that  quarter  as  would  enable  him  to  establish 
Ishbosheth    at  Gibeah,  and  thus  bring  to  him  all  the 
prestige  due    to  the  son  and  successor  of  Saul.     We 
must  not  forget  that  the  Philistines  had  still  great  in- 
fluence in  the  land,  and  very  likely  they  were  in  pos- 
session of  Gibeah,  after  having  rifled  Saul's  palace  and 
appropriated  all  his  private  property.    With  this  power- 
ful enemy  to  be  dealt  with  ultimately,  it  was  the  interest 
of  Abner  to  avoid  a   collision   of  the  whole   forces   on 
either  side,  and  spare  the  slaughter  which  such  a  con- 
test would  have  involved.     There  is  some  obscurity  in 
the  narrative  now  before  us,  both  at  this  point  and  at 
other  places.     But  it  would  appear  that,  when  the  two 
armies  were  ranged  on  opposite  sides  of   the  "pool" 
or   reservoir  at    Gibeon,  Abner  m.ade    the  proposal  to 
Joab  that  the  contest  should  be  decided  by  a  limited 
number  of  young  men  on  either  side,  whose  encounter 
would    form   a  sort   of  play    or   spectacle,    that    their 
brethren  might  look  on,  and,  in  a  sense,  enjoy.     In  the 
circumstances,    it    was  a  wise    and    humane    proposal, 
although  we  get  something  of  a  shock  from  the  frivolous 


28  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

spirit  that  could  speak  of  such  a  deadly  encounter  as 
'^play." 

David  was  not  present  with  his  troops  on  this 
occasion,  the  management  of  them  being  entrusted  to 
Joab,  his  sister's  son.  Here  was  another  of  the  diffi- 
culties of  David — a  difficulty  which  embarrassed  him 
for  forty  years.  He  was  led  to  commit  the  manage- 
ment of  his  army  to  his  warlike  nephew,  although  he 
appears  to  have  been  a  man  very  unlike  himself.  Joab 
is  much  more  of  the  type  of  Saul  than  of  David.  He 
is  rough,  impetuous,  w^orldly,  manifesting  no  faith,  no 
prayerfulness,  no  habit  or  spirit  of  communion  with 
God.  Yet  from  the  beginning  he  threw  in  his  lot 
with  David ;  he  remained  faithful  to  him  in  the  insur- 
rection of  Absalom ;  and  sometimes  he  gave  him  advice 
which  was  more  worthy  to  be  followed  than  his  own 
devices.  But  though  Joab  was  a  difficulty  to  David, 
he  did  not  master  him.  The  course  of  David's  Hfe  and 
the  character  of  his  reign  were  determined  mainly  by 
those  spiritual  feelings  with  which  Joab  appears  to 
have  had  no  sympathy.  It  was  unfortunate  that  the 
first  stage  of  the  war  should  have  been  in  the  hands  of 
Joab ;  he  conducted  it  in  a  way  that  must  have  been 
painful  to  David ;  he  stained  it  with  a  crime  that  gave 
him  bitter  pain. 

The  practice  of  deciding  public  contests  by  a  small 
and  equal  number  of  champions  on  either  side,  if  not  a 
common  one  in  ancient  times,  was,  at  any  rate,  not  very 
rare.  Roman  history  furnishes  some  memorable  in- 
stances of  it :  that  of  Romulus  and  Aruns,  and  that  of 
the  Horatii  and  the  Curiatii ;  while  the  challenge  of 
Goliath  and  the  proposal  to  settle  the  strife  between 
the  Philistines  and  the  Hebrews  according  to  the  result 
of  the  duel  with  him  had  taken  place  not  many  years 


ii.  12-32.J  BEGINNING   OF  CIVIL    WAR.  29 


before.  The  young  men  were  accordingly  chosen, 
twelve  on  either  side;  but  they  rushed  against  each 
other  with  such  impetuosity  that  the  whole  of  them  fell 
together,  and  the  contest  remained  undecided  as  before. 
Excited  probably  by  what  they  had  witnessed,  the 
main  forces  on  either  side  now  rushed  against  each 
other ;  and  when  the  shock  of  battle  came,  the  victory 
fell  to  the  side  of  David,  and  Abner  and  his  troops 
were  signally  defeated.  On  David's  side,  there  was 
not  a  very  serious  loss,  the  number  of  the  slain 
amounting  to  twenty;  but  on  the  side  of  Abner  the 
loss  was  three  hundred  and  sixty.  To  account  for  so 
great  an  inequality  we  must  remember  that  in  Eastern 
warfare  it  was  in  the  pursuit  that  by  far  the  greatest 
amount  of  slaughter  took  place.  That  obstinate  main- 
tenance of  their  ground  which  is  characteristic  of 
modern  armies  seems  to  have  been  unknown  in  those 
times.  The  superiority  of  one  of  the  hosts  over  the 
other  appears  usually  to  have  made  itself  felt  at  the 
beginning  of  the  engagement ;  the  opposite  force,  seized 
with  panic,  fled  in  confusion,  followed  close  by  the 
conquerors,  whose  weapons,  directed  against  the  backs 
of  the  fugitive,  were  neither  caught  on  shields,  nor 
met  by  counter-volleys.     Thus  it  was  that  Joab's  loss  | 

was  httle  more  than  the  twelve  who  had  fallen  at  first,  I- 

while  that  of  Abner  was  many  times  more.  | 

Among  those  who  had  to  save  themselves  by  flight  I 

after  the  battle  was  Abner,    the  captain    of   the  host.  | 

Hard  in  pursuit  of  him,  and    of  him    only,  hastened  | 

Asahel,  the  brother  of  Joab.      It  is  not  easy  to  under-  [ 

stand  all  the  circumstances  of  this  pursuit.     We  cannot  ; 

but  believe  that  Asahel  was  bent  on  kilHng  Abner,  but  I 

probably  his  hope  was  that  he  would  get  near  enough  j 

to  him  to  discharge  an  arrow  at  him,  and  that  in  doing  j 


30  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

SO  he  would  incur  no  personal  danger.  But  Abner 
appears  to  have  remarked  him,  and  to  have  stopped  his 
flight  and  faced  round  to  meet  him.  Abner  seems  to 
have  carried  sword  and  spear;  Asahel  had  probably 
nothing  heavier  than  a  bow.  It  was  fair  enough  in 
Abner  to  propose  that  if  they  were  to  be  opponents, 
Asahel  should  borrow  armour,  that  they  might  fight  on 
equal  terms.  But  this  was  not  Asahel's  thought.  He 
seems  to  have  been  determined  to  follow  Abner,  and 
take  his  opportunity  for  attacking  him  in  his  own  way. 
This  Abner  would  not  permit;  and,  as  Asahel  would 
not  desist  from  his  pursuit,  Abner,  rushmg  at  him,  struck 
him  with  such  violence  with  the  hinder  end  of  his  spear 
that  the  weapon  came  out  behind  him.  "  And  Asahel 
fell  down  there,  and  died  in  the  same  place ;  and  it 
came  to  pass  that  as  many  as  came  to  the  place  where 
Asahel  fell  down  and  died  stood  still."  Asahel  was  a 
man  of  consequence,  being  brother  of  the  commander  of 
the  army  and  nephew  of  the  king.  The  death  of  such 
a  man  counted  for  much,  and  went  far  to  restore  the 
balance  of  loss  between  the  two  contending  armies.  It 
seems  to  have  struck  a  horror  into  the  hearts  of  his 
fellow- soldiers ;  it  was  an  awful  incident  of  the  war. 
It  was  strange  enough  to  see  one  who  an  hour  ago  was 
so  young,  so  fresh  and  full  of  hfe,  stretched  on  the 
ground  a  helpless  lump  of  clay ;  but  it  was  more 
appalling  to  remember  his  relation  to  the  two  greatest 
men  of  the  nation— David  and  Joab.  Certainly  war  is 
most  indiscriminate  in  the  selection  of  its  victims ; 
commanders  and  their  brothers,  kings  and  their 
nephews,  being  as  open  to  its  catastrophes  as  any  one 
else.  Surely  it  must  have  sent  a  thrill  through  Abner 
to  see  among  the  first  victims  of  the  strife  which  he  had 
kindled   one  whose  family  stood  so  high,  and  whose 


ii.  12-32.]  BEGINNING   OF  CIVIL    WAR.  31 

death   would   exasperate  against    him   so    important  a 
person  as  his  brother  Joab. 

The  pursuit  of  the  defeated  army  was  by-and-bye 
interrupted  by  nightfall.  In  the  course  of  the  evening 
the  fugitives  somewhat  rallied,  and  concentrated  on  the 
top  of  a  hill,  in  the  wilderness  of  Gibeon.  And  here 
the  two  chiefs  held  parley  together.  The  proceedings 
were  begun  by  Abner,  and  begun  by  a  question  that 
was  almost  insolent.  ''  Abner  called  to  Joab  and  said, 
Shall  the  sword  devour  for  ever  ?  knowest  thou  not 
that  it  will  be  bitterness  in  the  latter  end  ?  how  long 
shall  it  be  ere  thou  bid  the  people  return  from  following 
their  brethren  ? "  It  was  an  audacious  attempt  to 
throw  on  Joab  and  Joab's  master  the  responsibility  of 
the  war.  We  get  a  new  glimpse  of  Abner's  character 
here.  If  there  was  a  fact  that  might  be  held  to  be 
beyond  the  possibility  of  question,  it  was  that  Abner 
had  begun  the  contest.     Had  not  he,  in  opposition  to  I 

the  Divine  King  of  the  nation,  set  up  Ishbosheth  against  | 

the  man  called  by  Jehovah  ?     Had  not  he  gathered  the  ' 

army  at  Mahanaim,    and   moved   towards    Gibeon,   on  ■ 

express  purpose  to   exclude  David,  and  secure  for  his  | 

nominee  what  might  be  counted  in  reality,  and  not  in  •' 

name  only,  the  kingdom  of  Israel  ?     Yet  he  insolently  \ 

demanded  of  Joab,  ''Shall  the  sword  devour  for  ever  ?"  j 

He  audaciously  applies  to  Joab  a  maxim  that  he  had  | 

not  thought  of  apptying  to  himself  in  the  morning —  f 

"  Knowest  thou  not   that  it  will  be  bitterness  in  the  f 

latter  end  ? "     This  is   a  war  that  can  be   terminated  \ 

only  by  the  destruction   of  one   half  of  the  nation  ;  it  j 

will    be    a    bitter    enough    consummation,    which    half  j 

soever    it    may    be.     Have    you    no    regard   for   your  I 

"brethren,"  against  whom  you  are  fighting,  that  you  i 

are  holding  on  in  this  remorseless  way  ?  | 

\ 
I. 


32  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

It  may  be  a  marvellously  clever  thing,  in  this 
audacious  manner,  to  throw  upon  an  opponent  all  the 
blame  which  is  obviously  one's  own.  But  no  good  man 
will  do  so.  The  audacity  that  ascribes  its  own  sins  to 
an  opponent  is  surely  the  token  of  a  very  evil  nature. 
We  have  no  reason  to  form  a  very  high  opinion  of 
Joab,  but  of  his  opponent  in  this  strife  our  judgment 
must  be  far  worse.  An  insincere  man,  Abner  could 
have  no  high  end  before  him.  If  David  was  not  happy 
in  his  general,  still  less  was  Ishbosheth  in  his. 

Joab's  answer  betrayed  a  measure  of  indignation. 
"  As  God  liveth,  unless  thou  hadst  spoken,  surely  then 
in  the  morning  the  people  had  gone  up  every  one  from 
following  his  brother."  There  is  some  ambiguit}^  in 
these  words.  The  Revised  Version  renders,  "  If  thou 
hadst  not  spoken,  surely  then  in  the  morning  the 
people  had  gone  away,  nor  followed  every  one  his 
brother."  The  meaning  of  Joab  seems  to  be  that,  apart 
from  any  such  ill-tempered  appeal  as  Abner's,  it  was 
his  full  intention  in  the  morning  to  recall  his  men  from 
the  pursuit,  and  let  Abner  and  his  people  go  home  with- 
out further  harm.  Joab  shows  the  indignation  of  one 
credited  with  a  purpose  he  never  had,  and  with  an  in- 
humanity and  unbrotherhness  of  which  he  was  innocent. 
Why  Joab  had  resolved  to  give  up  further  hostilities 
at  that  time,  we  are  not  told.  One  might  have  thought 
that  had  he  struck  another  blow  at  Abner  he  might 
have  so  harassed  his  force  as  to  ruin  his  cause,  and 
thus  secure  at  once  the  triumph  of  David.  But  Joab 
probably  felt  very  keenly  what  Abner  accused  him  of 
not  feeling  :  that  it  was  a  miserable  thing  to  destroy  the 
lives  of  so  many  brethren.  The  idea  of  building  up 
David's  throne  on  the  dead  bodies  of  his  subjects  he 
must  have  known  to  be  extremely  distasteful  to  David 


ii.  12-32.]  BEGINNING   OF  CIVIL    WAR,  33 

himself.  Civil  war  is  such  a  horrible  thing,  that  a 
general  may  well  be  excused  who  accepts  any  reason 
for  stopping  it.  If  Joab  had  known  what  was  to  follow^ 
he  might  have  taken  a  different  course.  If  he  had 
foreseen  the  "  long  war  "  that  was  to  be  between  the 
house  of  Saul  and  the  house  of  David,  he  might  have 
tried  on  this  occasion  to  strike  a  decisive  blow,  and 
pursued  Abner's  men  until  they  were  utterly  broken. 
But  that  day's  work  had  probably  sickened  him,  as  he 
knew  it  would  sicken  David ;  and  leaving  Abner  and 
his  people  to  make  their  way  across  the  Jordan,  he 
returned  to  bury  his  brother,  and  to  report  his  proceed- 
ings to  David  at  Hebron. 

And  David  must  have  grieved  exceedingly  when  he 
heard  what  had  taken  place.  The  slaughter  of  nearly 
four  hundred  of  God's  nation  was  a  terrible  thought ; 
still  more  terrible  it  was  to  think  that  in  a  sense  he 
had  been  the  occasion  of  it — it  was  done  to  prevent  him 
from  occupying  the  throne.  No  doubt  he  had  reason 
to  be  thankful  that  when  fighting  had  to  be  done,  the 
issue  was  eminently  favourable  to  him  and  his  cause. 
But  he  must  have  been  grieved  that  there  should  be 
fighting  at  all.  lie  must  have  felt  somewhat  as  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  felt  when  he  made  the  observation 
that  next  to  the  calamity  of  losing  a  battle  was  that  of 
gaining  a  victory.  Was  this  what  Samuel  had  meant 
when  he  came  that  morning  to  Bethlehem  and  anointed 
him  in  presence  of  his  family  ?  Was  this  what  God 
designed  when  He  was  pleased  to  put  him  in  the  place 
of  Saul  ?  If  this  was  a  sample  of  what  David  was  to 
bring  to  his  beloved  people,  would  it  not  have  been 
better  had  he  never  been  born  ?  Very  strange  must 
God's  ways  have  appeared  to  him.  How  different 
were   his   desires,    how  different   his   dreams    of  what 

VOL.    II,  3 


54  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

should  be  done  when  he  got  the  kingdom,  from  this 
day's  work  !  Often  he  had  thought  how  he  would  drive 
out  the  enemies  of  his  people ;  how  he  would  secure 
tranquillity  and  prosperity  to  every  Hebrew  homestead; 
how  he  would  aim  at  their  all  Hving  under  their  vine 
and  under  their  fig-tree,  none  making  them  afraid. 
But  now  his  reign  had  begun  with  bloodshed,  and 
already  desolation  had  been  carried  to  hundreds  of  his 
people's  homes.  Was  this  the  work,  O  God,  for  which 
Thou  didst  call  me  from  the  sheep-folds?  Should  I  not 
have  been  better  employed  ''  following  the  ewes  great 
with  young,"  and  protecting  my  flock  from  the  lion  and 
the  bear,  rather  than  sending  forth  men  to  stain  the 
soil  of  the  land  with  the  blood  of  the  people  and  carry 
to  their  habitations  the  voice  of  mourning  and  woe  ? 

If  David's  mind  was  exercised  in  this  way  by  the 
proceedings  near  the  pool  of  Gibeon,  all  his  trust  and 
patience  would  be  needed  to  wait  for  the  time  when 
God  would  vindicate  His  way.  After  all,  was  not  his 
experience  somewhat  like  that  of  Moses  when  he  first 
set  about  the  deliverance  of  his  people  ?  Did  he  not 
appear  to  do  more  harm  than  good  ?  Instead  of 
lightening  the  burdens  of  his  people,  did  he  not  cause 
an  increase  of  their  weight  ?  But  has  it  not  been  the 
experience  of  most  men  who  have  girded  themselves 
for  great  undertakings  in  the  interest  of  their  brethren  ? 
Nay,  was  it  not  the  experience  of  our  blessed  Lord  Him- 
self ?  At  His  birth  the  angels  sang,  "  Glory  to  God  in 
the  highest ;  on  earth  peace  ;  goodwill  to  men  !  "  And 
almost  the  next  event  was  the  massacre  at  Bethlehem, 
and  Jesus  Himself  even  in  His  lifetime  found  cause  to 
say,  "  Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  send  peace  on 
the  earth  ;  I  am  not  come  to  send  peace,  but  a  sword." 
What   a   sad    evidence   of  the  moral  disorder  of  the 


li.  12-32.]  BEGINNING   OF  CIVIL    WAR,  35 

world  !     The    very  messengers    of   the   God   of  peace 
are  not   allowed  to   deliver   their    messages   in  peace,  f. 

but  even  as  they  advance  toward  men  with  smiles  and 
benedictions,  are  fiercely  assailed,  and  compelled  to 
defend  themselves  by  violence.  Nevertheless  the 
angels'  song  is  true.  Jesus  did  come  to  bless  the 
world  with  peace.  "  Peace  I  leave  with  you  ;  My  peace 
I  give  unto  you  ;  not  as  the  world  giveth  give  I  unto 
you."  The  resistance  of  His  enemies  was  essentially 
a  feeble  resistance,  and  that  stronger  spirit  of  peace 
which  Jesus  brought  in  due  time  prevailed  mightily 
in  the  earth.  So  with  the  bloodshed  in  David's  reign. 
It  did  not  hinder  David  from  being  a  great  benefactor 
to  his  kingdom  in  the  end.  It  did  not  annul  the 
promise  of  God.  It  did  not  neutrahse  the  efficacy  of 
the  holy  oil.  This  was  just  one  of  the  many  ways 
in  which  his  faith  and  his  patience  were  tried.  It  must 
have  shown  him  even  more  impressively  than  any- 
thing that  had  yet  happened  the  absolute  necessity  of 
Divine  direction  in  all  his  ways.  For  it  is  far  easier 
for  a  good  man  to  bear  suffering  brought  on  himself  by 
his  actions,  than  to  see  suffering  and  death  entailed  on 
his  brethren  in  connection  with  a  course  which  has 
been  taken  by  him. 

In  that  audacious  speech  which  Abner  addressed 
to  Joab,  there  occurs  an  expression  worthy  of  being 
taken  out  of  the  connection  in  which  it  was  used  and 
of  being  viewed  with  wider  reference.  "  Knowest 
thou  not  that  it  will  be  bitterness  in  the  latter  end  ?  " 
Things  are  to  be  viewed  by  rational  beings  not  merely 
in  their  present  or  immediate  result,  but  in  their  final 
outcome,  in  their  ultimate  fruits.  A  very  commonplace 
truth,  I  grant  you,  this  is,  but  most  wholesome,  most 
necessary   to   be   cherished.     For   how    many    of   the 


36  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


miseries  and  how  many  of  the  worst  sins  of  men  come 
of  forgetting  the  "  bitterness  in  the  latter  end  "  which 
evil  beginnings  give  rise  to  !  It  is  one  of  the  most 
wholesome  rules  of  Hfe  never  to  do  to-day  what  you 
shall  repent  of  to-morrow.  Yet  how  constantly  is  the 
rule  disregarded !  Youthful  child  of  fortune,  who  are 
revelling  to-day  in  wealth  which  is  counted  by 
hundreds  of  thousands,  and  which  seems  as  if  it  could 
never  be  exhausted,  remember  how  dangerous  those 
gambling  habits  are  into  which  you  are  falling ; 
remember  that  the  gambler's  biography  is  usually  a 
short,  and  often  a  tragic,  one ;  and  when  you  hear  the 
sound  of  the  pistol  with  which  one  like  yourself  has 
ended  his  miserable  existence,  remember  it  all 
began  by  disregarding  the  motto,  written  over  the 
gambler's  path,  "  Knowest  thou  not  that  it  will  be 
bitterness  in  the  latter  end?"  You  merry-hearted 
and  amusing  companion,  to  whom  the  flowing  bowl, 
and  the  jovial  company,  and  the  merry  jest  and  lively 
song  are  so  attractive,  the  more  you  are  tempted 
to  go  where  they  are  found  remember  that  rags  and 
dishonour,  dirt  and  degradation,  form  the  last  stage  of 
the  journey, — "  the  latter  end  bitterness"  of  the  course 
you  are  now  following.  You  who  are  wasting  in 
idleness  the  hours  of  the  morning,  remember  how 
you  will  repent  of  it  when  you  have  to  make  up  your 
leeway  by  hard  toil  at  night.  I  have  said  that  things 
are  to  be  viewed  by  rational  beings  in  their  relations  to 
the  future  as  well  as  the  present.  It  is  not  the  part 
of  a  rational  being  to  accumulate  disaster,  distress, 
and  shame  for  the  future.  Men  that  are  rational  will 
far  rather  suffer  for  the  present  if  they  may  be  free 
from  suffering  hereafter.  Benefit  societies,  life  in- 
surance, annuity  schemes — what  are  they  all  but  the 


ii.  12-32.]  BEGINNING   OF  CIVIL    WAR.  37 

devices  of  sensible  men  desirous  to  ward  off  even  the 
possibility  of  temporal  "  bitterness  in  the  latter  end  "  ? 
And  may  not  this  wisdom,  this  good  sense,  be  applied 
with  far  more  purpose  to  the  things  that  are  unseen  and 
eternal  ?  Think  of  the  ''  bitterness  in  the  end  "  that 
must  come  of  neglecting  Christ,  disregarding  conscience, 
turning  away  from  the  Bible,  the  church,  the  Sabbath, 
grieving  the  Spirit,  neglecting  prayer !  Will  not  many 
a  foretaste  of  this  bitterness  visit  you  even  while  yet 
you  are  well,  and  all  things  are  prospering  with  you  ? 
Will  it  not  come  on  you  with  overpowering  force  while 
you  lie  on  your  death-bed  ?  Will  it  not  wrap  your 
soul  in  indescribable  anguish  through  all  eternity  ? 

Think  then  of  this  "  bitterness  in  the  latter  end  " ! 
Now  is  the  accepted  time.  In  the  deep  consciousness 
of  your  weakness,  let  your  prayer  be  that  God  would 
restrain  you  from  the  folly  to  which  your  hearts  are  so 
prone,  that,  by  His  Holy  Spirit,  He  would  work  in 
you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  His  good  pleasure. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

CONCLUSION  OF  THE   CIVIL    WAR. 
2  Samuel  iii.  i — 21. 

THE  victory  at  the  pool  of  Gibeon  was  far  from 
ending  the  opposition  to  David.  In  vain,  for 
many  a  day,  weary  eyes  looked  out  for  the  dove  with 
the  olive  leaf.  ''  There  was  long  war  between  the 
house  of  Saul  and  the  house  of  David."  The  war  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  carried  on  by  pitched  battles, 
but  rather  by  a  long  series  of  those  fretting  and  worry- 
ing little  skirmishes  which  a  state  of  civil  war  breeds, 
even  when  the  volcano  is  comparatively  quiet.  But  the 
drift  of  things  was  manifest.  "  David  waxed  stronger 
and  stronger ;  but  the  house  of  Saul  waxed  weaker  and 
weaker."  The  cause  of  the  house  of  Saul  was  weak  in 
its  invisible  support  because  God  was  against  it ;  it  was 
weak  in  its  champion  Ishbosheth,  a  feeble  man,  with 
little  or  no  power  to  attract  people  to  his  standard  ;  its 
only  element  of  strength  was  Abner,  and  even  he 
could  not  make  head  against  such  odds.  Good  and 
evil  so  often  seem  to  balance  each  other,  existing  side 
by  side  in  a  kind  of  feeble  stagnation,  and  giving  rise 
to  such  a  dull  feeling  on  the  part  of  onlookers,  that  we 
cannot  but  think  with  something  like  envy  of  the 
followers  of  David  even  under  the  pain  of  a  civil  war. 


iii.  I  21.]       CONCLUSION  OF  THE   CIVIL    WAR.  39 

cheered  as  they  were  by  constant  proofs  that  their  cause 
was  advancing  to  victory. 

And  now  we  get  a  glimpse  of  David's  dorrestic  mode, 
of  Hfe,   which,   indeed,  is    far  from   satisfactory.     His 
wives  were  now  six  in  number;  of  some  of  them  we 
know  nothing;    of  the  rest  what  we  do  know  is  not 
always    in    their    favour.      The    earliest    of    ajl    was 
"  Ahinoam,  the  Jezreelitess."     Her  native  place,  or  the 
home  of  her  family,  was  Jezreel,  that  part  of  the  plain 
of  Esdraelon   where    the   Philistines  encamped   before 
Saul  was  defeated  (i  Sam.  xxix.  12),  and  afterwards,  in 
the  days   of  Ahab,  a  royal  residence  of  the  kings  of 
Israel  (i    Kings  xviii.  46)  and   the  abode  of  Naboth, 
who  refused  to  part  with  his  vineyard  in  Jezreel  to  the 
king  (i   Kings  xxi.).     Of  Ahinoam  we  find  absolutely 
no   mention    in   the   history ;  if  her   son  Amnon,  the 
oldest  of  David's    family,  reflected  her  character,  we 
have   no   reason    to  regret  the  silence  (2  Sam.  xiii.). 
The  next  of  his  wives  was  Abigail,  the  widow  of  Nabal 
the     Carmelite,    of    whose    smartness    and    excellent 
management  we  have  a  full  account  in  a  former  part 
of  the  history.     Her  son  is  called  Chileab,  but  in  the 
parallel    passage   in  Chronicles   Daniel;    we  can  only 
guess  the  reason  of  the  change  ;  but  whether  it  was 
another    name   for    the   same    son,    or   the    name   of 
another  son,  the  history  is  silent  concerning  him,  and 
the    most    probable   conjecture    is    that  he  died  early. 
His  third  wife  was  Maachah,  the  daughter  of  Talmai 
the   Geshurite.      This  was  not,  as  some  have   rather 
foolishly  supposed,  a  member  of  those  Geshurites  in 
the  south  against  whom  David  led  his  troop  (i   Sam. 
xxvii.  8),  for  it  is  expressly  stated  that  of  that  tribe  '^  he 
left  neither  man  nor  woman  alive."     It  was  of  Geshur 
in   Syria    that   Talmai    was    king  (2  Sam.  xv.   8) ;   it 


40-  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OE  SAMUEL. 

formed  one  of  several  little  principalities  lying  between 
Mount  Hermon  and  Damascus  :  but  we  cannot  com- 
mend the  alliance  ;  for  these  kingdoms  were  idolatrous, 
and  unless  Maachah  was  an  exception,  she  must  have 
introduced  idolatrous  practices  into  David's  house.  Of 
the  other  three  wives  we  have  no  information.  And 
in  regard  to  the  household  which  he  thus  established 
at  Hebron,  we  can  only  regret  that  the  king  of  Israel 
did  not  imitate  the  example  that  had  been  set  there 
by  Abraham,  and  followed  in  the  same  neighbourhood 
by  Isaac.  What  a  different  complexion  would  have 
been  given  to  David's  character  and  history  if  he  had 
shown  the  self-control  in  this  matter  that  he  showed  in 
his  treatment  of  Saul !  Of  how  many  grievous  sins 
and  sorrows  did  he  sow  the  seed  when  he  thus  multi- 
plied wives  to  himself!  How  many  a  man,  from  his 
own  day  down  to  the  days  of  Mormonism,  did  he 
silently  encourage  in  licentious  conduct,  and  furnish 
with  a  respectable  example  and  a  plausible  excuse  for 
it  !  How  difficult  did  he  make  it  for  many  who  cannot 
but  acknowledge  the  bright  aspect  of  his  spiritual  life 
to  believe  that  even  in  that  it  was  all  good  and  genuine ! 
We  do  not  hesitate  to  ascribe  to  the  Hfe  of  David 
an  influence  on  successive  generations  on  the  whole 
pure  and  elevating;  but  it  is  impossible  not  to  own 
that  by  many,  a  justification  of  relaxed  principle  and 
unchaste  living  has  been  drawn  from  his  example. 

We  have  already  said  that  polygamy  was  not  imputed 
to  David  as  a  sin  in  the  sense  that  it  deprived  him  of 
the  favour  of  God.  But  we  cannot  allow  that  this  per- 
mission was  of  the  nature  of  a  boon.  We  cannot  but 
feel  how  much  better  it  would  have  been  if  the  seventh 
commandment  had  been  read  by  David  with  the  same 
absolute,  unbending  Hmitation  with  which  it  is  read  by 


iil.  I-2I.]       CONCLUSION  OF  THE   CIVIL    WAR.  41 

US.     It  would  have  been  better  for  him  and  better  for  ■ 

his  house.     Puritan  strictness  of  morals  is,  after  all,  a  | 

right  wholesome  and  most  blessed  thing.     Who  shall  | 

say    that   the   sum    of  a   man's   enjoyment  is  not  far  | 

greatest  in  the  end  of  life  when  he  has  kept  with  un-  | 

flinching  steadfastness  his  early  vow  of   faithfulness,  | 

and,  as  his  reward,  has  never  lost  the  freshness  and  the  \ 

flavour   of  his  first  love,  nor  ceased  to  find  in  his  ever-  \ 

faithful  partner  that  which  fills  and  satisfies  his  heart  ?  j 

Compared  to  this,  the  life  of  him  who  has  flitted  from  t 

one  attachment  to  another,  heedless  of  the  soured  feel-  j 
ings  or,  it  may  be,  the  broken  hearts  he  has  left  behind, 

and  whose  children,   instead    of  breathing   the   sweet  \ 

spirit   of  brotherly   and    sisterly   love,    scowl    at   one  I 

another  with  the  bitter  feelings  of  envy,  jealousy,  and  ? 

hatred,  is  like  an  existence  of  wild  fever  compared  to  ; 

the  pure  tranquil  life  of  a  child.  ■ 

In  such  a  household  as  David's,  occasions  of  estrange-  i 

ment  must  have   been  perpetually  arising   among  the  ! 

various  branches,  and  it  would  require  all  his  wisdom  \ 

and  gentleness  to  keep  these  quarrels  within  moderate  | 

bounds.     In  his  own  breast,  that  sense  of  dehcacy,  that  | 

instinct  of  purity,  which  exercises  such  an    influence  ■ 

on  a  godly  family,  could  not  have  existed ;  the  necessity  | 

of  reining  in  his  inclinations  in  that  respect  was  not  | 

acknowledged  ;  and  it  is  remarkable  that  in  the  confes-  | 

sions  of  the  fifty-first  Psalm,  while  he  specifies  the  sins  I 

of    blood-guiltiness    and    seems    to    have    been    over-  f 

whelmed  by  a  sense  of  his  meanness,  injustice,  and  \ 

selfishness,   there  is   no  special  allusion  to  the  sin  of  I 

adultery,  and  no  indication  of  that  sin   pressing  very  [ 
heavily  upon  his  conscience. 

Whether  it  be  by  design  or  not,  it  is  an  instructive 
circumstance  that  it  is  immediately  after  this  glimpse 


4^  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

of  David's  domestic  life  that  we  meet  with  a  sample 
of  the  kind  of  evils  which  the  system  of  royal  harems 
is  ever  apt  to  produce.  Saul  too  had  had  his  harem ; 
and  it  was  a  rule  of  succession  in  the  East  that  the 
harem  went  with  the  throne.  To  take  possession  of 
the  one  was  regarded  as  equivalent  to  setting  up  a 
claim  to  the  other.  When  therefore  Ishbosheth  heard 
that  Abner  had  taken  one  of  his  father's  concubines, 
he  locked  on  it  as  a  proof  that  Abner  had  an  eye  to  the 
throne  for  himself.  He  accordingly  demanded  an  ex- 
planation from  Abner,  but  instead  of  explanation  or 
apology,  he  received  a  volley  of  rudeness  and  defiance. 
Abner  knew  well  that  without  him  Ishbosheth  was  but 
a  figure-head,  and  he  was  enraged  by  treatment  that 
seemed  to  overlook  all  the  service  he  had  rendered  him 
and  to  treat  him  as  if  he  were  some  second  or  third- 
rate  officer  of  a  firm  and  settled  kingdom.  Perhaps 
Abner  had  begun  to  see  that  the  cause  of  Ishbosheth 
was  hopeless,  and  was  even  glad  in  his  secret  heart  of 
an  excuse  for  abandoning  an  undertaking  which  could 
bring  neither  success  nor  honour.  ^'  Am  I  a  dog's  head, 
which  against  Judah  do  show  kindness  this  day  unto 
the  house  of  Saul  thy  father,  to  his  brethren,  and  to  his 
friends,  and  have  not  delivered  thee  into  the  hand  of 
David,  that  thou  chargest  m^e  to-day  with  a  fault 
concerning  this  woman  ?  So  do  God  to  Abner,  and 
more  also,  except,  as  the  Lord  hath  sworn  to  David, 
even  so  I  do  to  him,  to  translate  the  kingdom  from  the 
house  of  Saul,  and  to  set  up  the  throne  of  David  over 
Israel  and  over  Judah  from  Dan  even  to  Beersheba." 

The  proverb  says,  ^'  When  rogues  fall  out,  honest 
men  get  their  own."  How  utterly  unprincipled  the 
effort  of  Abner  and  Ishbosheth  was  is  evident  from 
the  confession  of  the  former  that  God  had   sworn  to 


Hi.  1-2 1.]       CONCLUSION  OF  THE   CIVIL    WAR. 


43 


David  to  establish  his  throne  over  the  whole  land. 
Their  enterprise  therefore  bore  impiety  on  its  very 
face ;  and  vi^s  can  only  account  for  their  setting  their 
hands  to  it  on  the  principle  that  keen  thirst  for  v^^orldly 
advantage  will  drive  ungodly  men  into  virtual  atheism, 
as  if  God  were  no  factor  in  the  affairs  of  men,  as  if 
it  mattered  not  that  He  was  against  them,  and  that  it 
is  onl}'-  when  their  schemes  show  signs  of  coming  to 
ruin  that  they  awake  to  the  consciousness  that  there 
is  a  God  after  all !  And  how  often  we  see  that  godless 
men  banded  together  have  no  firm  bond  of  union; 
the  very  passions  which  they  are  united  to  gratify 
begin  to  rage  against  one  another ;  they  fall  into  the 
pit  which  they  digged  for  others ;  they  are  hanged  on 
the  gallows  which  they  erected  for  their  foes. 

The  next  step  in  the  narrative  brings  us  to  Abner's 
offer  to  David  to  make  a  league  with  him  for  the  un- 
disputed possession  of  the  throne.  Things  had  changed 
now  very  materially  from  that  day  when,  in  the 
wilderness  of  Judah,  David  reproached  Abner  for  his 
careless  custody  of  the  king's  person  (i  Sam.  xxvi.  14). 
What  a  picture  of  feebleness  David  had  seemed  then, 
while  Saul  commanded  the  whole  resources  of  the 
kingdom  !  Yet  in  that  day  of  weakness  David  had 
done  a  noble  deed,  a  deed  made  nobler  by  his  very 
weakness,  and  he  had  thereby  shown  to  any  that  had 
eyes  to  see  which  party  it  was  that  had  God  on  its 
side.  And  now  this  truth  concerning  him,  against 
which  Abner  had  kicked  and  struggled  in  vain,  was 
asserting  itself  in  a  way  not  to  be  resisted.  Yet  even 
now  there  is  no  trace  of  humility  in  the  language  of 
Abner.  He  plays  the  great  man  still.  ''  Behold,  my 
hand  shall  be  with  thee,  to  bring  about  all  Israel  to 
thee."     He  approaches  King  David,   not  as  one  who 


44  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL,  \ 

has  done  him  a  great  wrong,  but  as  one  who  offers  to  ! 

do  him  a  great  favour.     There  is  no  word  of  regret  for  .' 

his  having  opposed  what  he  knew  to  be  God's  purpose  ; 

and  promise,  no    apology  for  the  disturbance  he  had  j 

wrought  in  Israel,  no  excuse  for  all  the  distress  which  i 

be  had  caused  to  David  by  keeping  the  kingdom  and  ) 

the  people  at  war.     He  does  not  come  as  a  rebel  to  \ 

his  sovereign,  but  as  one  independent  man  to  another.  ' 

Make  a  league  with  me.     Secure  me  from  punishment ;  \ 
promise  me  a   reward.     For  this  he  simply   offers  to 
place   at  David's   disposal  that   powerful  hand  of  his 

that  had  been  so  mighty  for  evil.     If  he  expected  that  i 
David  would  leap  into  his  arms  at  the  mention  of  such 

an  offer,  he  was  mistaken.     This  was  not  the  way  for  ; 
a  rebel  to   come  to  his  king.     David  was    too  much 

dissatisfied  with  his  past  conduct,  and  saw  too  clearly  \ 

that  it  was  only  stress  of  weather  that  was  driving  him  . ' 

into  harbour  now,  to  show  any  great  enthusiasm  about  \ 
his  offer.     On  the  contrary,  he  laid  down  a  stiff  pre- 
liminary condition ;  and  with  the  air  of  one  who  knew 

his  place  and  his  power,  he  let  Abner  know  that  if  1 

that  condition  were  not  complied  with,  he  should  not  ; 

see  his  face.      We   cannot    but    admire   the   firmness  j 

shown  in  this  mode  of  meeting  Abner's  advances ;  but  ^ 

we  are  somewhat  disappointed  when  we  find  what  the  j 

condition  was — that  Michal,  Saul's  daughter,  whom  he  '-^ 

had  espoused  for  a  hundred  foreskins  of  the  Philistines,  \ 

should  be  restored  to  him  as  his  wife.     The  demand  • 

was  no  doubt  a  righteous  one,  and  it  was  reasonable  : 

that  David  should  be  vindicated   from   the  great  slur  -■ 

cast  on  him    when  his    wife  was    given    to    another;  ■ 

moreover,  it  was  fitted  to  test  the  genuiueness  of  Abner's  . ' 
advances,  to  show  whether  he  really  meant  to  acknow- 
ledge the  royal  rights  of  David;  but  we  wonder  that, 


iii.  I -2 1.]       CONCLUSION  OF   THE   CIVIL    WAR.  45 

with   six   wives   already  about   him,    he   should   be   so 

eager  for  another,  and  we  shrink  from  the  reason  given 

for    the    restoration — not    that    the   marriage    tie    was 

inviolable,  but  that  he  had  paid  for  her  a  very  extraor-  | 

dinary  dowry.     And  most  readers,  too,  will  feel  some  \ 

sympathy  with    the   second    husband,  who    seems    to  | 

have    had    a    strong    affection    for    Michal,    and    who  f 

followed  her  weeping,  until  the  stern  military  voice  of  [ 

Abner  compelled  him  to  return.     All  we  can  say  about 

him  is,  that  his  sin  lay  in  receiving  another  man's  wife  I 

and    treating  her  as  his  own  ;    the  beginning  of   the  ! 

connection  was  unlawful,  although  the  manner  of  its  • 

ending  on  his  part  was  creditable.     Connections  formed  ; 

in  sin  must  sooner  or  later  end  in  suffering ;  and  the  | 

tears  of  Phaltiel  would  not  have   flowed   now  if  that  \ 

unfortunate  man  had  acted  firmly  and  honourably  when  [ 

Michal  was  taken  from   David.  [ 

But  it  is  not  likely  that  in  this  demand  for  the  re-  | 

storation    of   Michal    David  acted   on    purely  personal  i 

considerations.      He  does  not  seem  to  have  been  above 

the  prevalent  feehng  of  the  East  which  measured  the  , 

authority  and  dignity  of  the  monarch  by  the  rank  and  j 

connections    of  his  wives.      Moreover,    as   David  laid  \ 

stress  on  the  way  in  which  he  got  Michal  as  his  wife,  it 

is  likely  that  he  desired  to  recall  attention  to  his  early  ■; 

exploits  against  the  Philistines.     He  had  probably  found  \ 

that  his  recent  alliance  with  King  A.chish  had  brought  \ 

him  into   suspicion ;  he   wished   to   remind   the  people  J 

therefore   of  his   ancient   services   against   those  bitter  \ 

and  implacable  enemies  of  Israel,  and  to  encourage  the  j 

expectation  of  similar  exploits  in  the  future.     The  pur-  I 

pose  which  he  thus  seems  to   have  had  in  view  was  | 

successful.     For  when  Abner  soon  after  made  a  repre-  ; 

sentation  to  the  elders  of  Israel  in  favour  of  King  David  i 

I 
t 

I 


46  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL 

and  reminded  them  of  the  promise  which  God  had  made 
regarding  him,  it  was  to  this  effect :  "  By  the  hand  of 
My  servant  David  I  will  save  My  people  Israel  out  of 
the  hand  of  the  Philistines  and  out  of  the  hand  of  all 
their  enemies."  It  seems  to  have  been  a  great  step 
towards  David's  recognition  by  the  whole  nation  that 
they  came  to  have  confidence  in  him  in  leading  them 
against  the  Philistines.  Thus  he  received  a  fresh  proof 
of  the  folly  of  his  distrustful  conclusion,  ''There  is 
nothing  better  for  me  than  that  I  should  escape  into  the 
land  of  the  Philistines."  It  became  more  and  more 
apparent  that  nothing  could  have  been  worse. 

One  is  tempted  to  wonder  if  David  ever  sat  down  to 
consider  what  would  probably  have  happened  if,  instead 
of  going  over  to  the  Philistines,  he  had  continued  to 
abide  in  the  wilderness  of  Judah,  braving  the  dangers 
of  the  place  and  trusting  in  the  protection  of  his  God. 
Some  sixteen  months  after,  the  terrible  invasion  of  the 
Philistines  took  place,  and  Saul,  overwhelmed  with 
terror  and  despair,  was  at  his  wits'  end  for  help.  How 
natural  it  would  have  been  for  him  in  that  hour  of 
despair  to  send  for  David  if  he  had  been  still  in  the 
country  and  ask  his  aid  !  How  much  more  in  his  own 
place  would  David  have  appeared  bravely  fronting  the 
Philistines  in  battle,  than  hovering  in  the  rear  of  Achish 
and  pretending  to  feel  himself  treated  ill  because  the 
Philistine  lords  had  required  him  to  be  sent  away ! 
Might  he  not  have  been  the  instrument  of  saving  his 
country  from  defeat  and  disgrace  ?  And  if  Saul  and 
Jonathan  had  fallen  in  the  battle,  would  not  the  whole 
nation  have  turned  as  one  man  to  him,  and  would  not 
that  long  and  cruel  civil  war  have  been  entirely  averted? 
It  is  needless  to  go  back  on  the  past  and  think  how 
much  better  we  could  have  acted  if  unavailing  regret  is 


iii.  I -2 1.]       CONCLUSION  OF  THE   CIVIL    WAR.  47 

to  be  the  only  result  of  the  process ;  but  it  is  a  salutary 
and  blessed  exercise  if  it  tends  to  fix  in  our  minds — 
what  we  doubt  not  it  fixed  in  David's — how  infinitely 
better  for  us  it  is  to  follow  the  course  marked  out  for  us 
by  our  heavenly  Father,  with  all  its  difficulties  and 
dangers,  than  to  walk  in  the  light  of  our  own  fire  and 
in  the  sparks  of  our  own  kindling. 

It  appears  that  Abner  set  himself  with  great  vigour 
to  fulfil  the  promise  made  by  him  in  his  league  with 
David.  First,  he  held  communication  with  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  whole  nation,  ''  the  elders  of  Israel," 
and  showed  to  them,  as  we  have  seen — no  doubt  to 
his  own  confusion  and  self-condemnation — how  God  had 
designated  David  as  the  king  through  whom  deliver- 
ance would  be  granted  to  Israel  from  the  Philistines 
and  all  their  other  enemies.  Next,  remembering  that 
Saul  was  a  member  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  and 
believing  that  the  feeling  in  favour  of  his  family  would 
be  eminently  strong  in  that  tribe,  he  took  special  pains 
to  attach  them  to  David,  and  as  he  was  himself 
likewise  a  Benjamite,  he  must  have  been  eminently 
useful  in  this  service.  Thirdly,  he  went  in  person  to 
Hebron,  David's  seat,  "  to  speak  in  the  ears  of  David 
all  that  seemed  good  to  Israel  and  to  the  whole  house 
of  Benjamin."  Finally,  after  being  entertained  by 
David  at  a  great  feast,  he  set  out  to  bring  about  a 
meeting  of  the  whole  congregation  of  Israel,  that  they 
might  solemnly  ratify  the  appointment  of  David  as 
king,  in  the  same  way  as,  in  the  early  days  of  Saul, 
Samuel  had  convened  the  representatives  of  the 
nation  at  Gilgal  (i  Sam.  xi.  15).  That  in  all  this 
Abner  was  rendering  a  great  service  both  to  David  and 
the  nation  cannot  be  doubted.  He  was  doing  what  no 
other  man  in  Israel  could  have  done  at  the  time  for 


48  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

establishing  the  throne  of  David  and  ending  the  civil 
v^ar.  Having  once  made  overtures  to  David,  he  shov^ed 
an  honourable  promptitude  in  fulfiUing  the  promise 
under  vv^hich  he  had  come.  No  man  can  atone  for  past 
sin  by  doing  his  duty  at  a  future  time ;  but  if  anything 
could  have  blotted  out  from  David's  memory  the 
remembrance  of  Abner's  great  injury  to  him  and  to 
the  nation,  it  was  the  zeal  with  which  he  exerted  him- 
self now  to  establish  David's  claims  over  all  the  country, 
and  especially  where  his  cause  was  feeblest — in  the 
tribe  of  Benjamin. 

It  must  have  been  a  happy  day  in  David's  history 
when  Abner  set  out  from  Hebron  to  convene  the 
assembly  of  the  tribes  that  was  to  call  him  with  one 
voice  to  the  throne.  It  was  the  day  long  looked  for 
come  at  last.  The  dove  had  at  length  come  with  the 
olive  leaf,  and  peace  would  now  reign  among  all  the 
tribes  of  Israel.  And  we  may  readily  conceive  him, 
with  this  prospect  so  near,  expressing  his  feeHngs,  if 
not  in  the  very  words  of  the  thirty-seventh  Psalm,  at 
any  rate  in  language  of  similar  import : — 

*'  Fret  not  thyself  because  of  evil-doers, 

Neither  be  thou  envious  against  them  that  work  unrighteousness 

For  they  shall  soon  be  cut  down  like  the  grass, 

And  wither  as  the  green  herb. 

Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good  ; 

Dwell  in  the  land,  and  follow  after  faithfulness. 

Delight  thyself  also  in  the  Lord, 

And  He  shall  give  thee  the  desires  of  thine  heart. 

Commit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord, 

Trust  also  in  Him,  and  He  shall  bring  it  to  pass. 

And  He  shall  make  thy  righteousness  to  go  forth  as  the  light, 

And  thy  judgment  as  the  noonday. 

Rest  in  the  Lord  and  wait  patiently  for  Him  ;' 

Fret  not  thyself  because  of  him  that  prospereth  in  his  way. 

Because  of  the  nian  \Aho  bringeth  wicked  devices  to  pass. 


iii.  I-2I.]       CONCLUSION  OF  THE   CIVIL    WAR.  49 

For  evil-doers  shall  be  cut  off  ; 

But  those  that  wait  on  the  Lord,  they  shall  inherit  the  land." 

But  a  crime  was  now  on  the  eve  of  being  perpetrated  | 

destined  for  the  time  to  scatter  all  King  David's  pleasing 
expectations  and  plunge  him  anew  into  the  depths  of 
distress. 


VOL.    IT.  m 

I 

I 


CHAPTER  V. 

ASSASSINA  TION  OF  ABNER  AND  ISHBOSHETH, 
2  Samuel  iii.  22 — 39  ;  iv. 

IT  is  quite  possible  that,  in  treating  with  Abner, 
David  showed  too  complacent  a  temper,  that  he 
treated  too  lightly  his  appearance  in  arms  against  him 
at  the  pool  of  Gibeon,  and  that  he  neglected  to  demand 
an  apology  for  the  death  of  Asahel.  Certainly  it 
would  have  been  wise  had  some  measures  been''-  taken 
to  soothe  the  ruffled  temper  of  Joab  and  reconcile  him 
to  the  new  arrangement  This,  however,  was  not  done. 
David  was  so  happy  in  the  thought  that  the  civil  war 
was  to  cease,  and  that  all  Israel  were  about  to  recognise 
him  as  their  king,  that  he  would  not  go  back  on  the 
past,  or  make  reprisals  even  for  the  death  of  Asahel. 
He  was  willing  to  let  bygones  be  bygones.  Perhaps, 
too,  he  thought  that  if  Asahel  met  his  death  at  the 
hand  of  Abner,  it  was  his  own  rashness  that  was  to 
blame  for  it.  Anyhow  he  was  greatly  impressed  with 
the  value  of  Abner's  service  on  his  behalf,  and  much 
interested  in  the  project  to  which  he  was  now  going 
forth — gathering  all  Israel  to  the  king,  to  make  a  league 
with  him  and  bind  themselves  to  his  allegiance. 

In  these  measures  Joab  had  not  been  consulted. 
When  Abner  was  at  Hebron,  Joab  was  absent  on  a 
military  enterprise.      In  that  enterprise  he  had  been 


iii.  22-39;  iv.]        ABNER   AND  ISHBOSHETH.  51 

very  successful,  and  he  was  able  to  appear  at  Hebron 
with  the  most  popular  evidence  of  success  that  a  general 
could  bring — a  large  amount  of  spoil.  No  doubt  Joab 
was  elated  with  his  success,  and  was  in  that  very 
temper  when  a  man  is  most  disposed  to  resent  his 
being  overlooked  and  to  take  more  upon  him  than  is 
meet.  When  he  heard  of  David's  agreement  with  Abner, 
he  was  highly  displeased.  First  he  went  to  the  king, 
and  scolded  him  for  his  simplicity  in  beUeving  Abner. 
It  was  but  a  stratagem  of  Abner's  to  allow  him  to  come 
to  Hebron,  ascertain  the  state  of  David's  affairs,  and 
take  his  own  steps  more  effectively  in  the  interest  of 
his  opponent,  Suspicion  reigned  in  Joab's  heart;  the 
generosity  of  David's  nature  was  not  only  not  shared 
by  him,  but  seemed  silliness  itself.  His  rudeness  to 
David  is  highly  offensive.  He  speaks  to  him  in  the 
tone  of  a  master  to  a  servant,  or  in  the  tone  of  those 
servants  who  rule  their  master.  "  What  hast  thou 
done  ?  Behold,  Abner  came  unto  thee ;  why  is  it  that 
thou  hast  sent  him  away,  and  he  is  quite  gone  ?  Thou 
knowest  Abner  the  son  of  Ner,  that  he  came  to  deceive 
thee,  and  to  know  thy  going  out  and  thy  coming  in, 
and  to  know  all  that  thou  doest."  David  is  spoken  to 
like  one  guilty  of  inexcusable  folly,  as  if  he  were 
accountable  to  Joab,  and  not  Joab  to  him.  Of  the 
king's  answer  to  Joab,  nothing  is  recorded ;  but  from 
David's  confession  (ver.  39)  that  the  sons  of  Zeruiah 
were  too  strong  for  him,  we  may  infer  that  it  was  not  very  ■ 

firm  or  decided,  and  that  Joab  set  it  utterly  at  nought.  | 

For  the  very  first  thing  that  Joab  did  after  seeing 
the  king  was  to  send  a  message  to  Abner,  most 
Ukely  in  David's  name,  but  without  David's  knowledge, 
asking  him  to  return.     Joab  was  at  the  gate  ready  for  ! 

his  treacherous  business,  and  taking  Abner  aside  as  if  i 


THE   SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


for  private  conversation,  he  plunged  his  dagger  in  his 
breast,  ostensibly  in  revenge  for  the  death  of  his  brother 
Asahel.  There  was  something  eminently  mean  and 
dastardly  in  the  deed.  Abner  was  now  on  the  best  of 
terms  with  Joab's  master,  and  he  could  not  have 
apprehended  danger  from  the  servant.  If  assassination 
be  mean  among  civilians,  it  is  eminently  mean  among 
soldiers.  The  laws  of  hospitahty  were  outraged  when 
one  who  had  just  been  David's  guest  was  assassinated 
in  David's  city.  The  outrage  was  all  the  greater,  as  was 
also  the  injury  to  King  David  and  to  the  whole  kingdom, 
that  the  crime  was  committed  when  Abner  was  on  the 
eve  of  an  important  and  delicate  negotiation  with  the 
other  tribes  of  Israel,  since  the  arrangement  which  he 
hoped  to  bring  about  was  likely  to  be  broken  off  by 
the  news  of  his  shameful  death.  At  no  moment  are 
the  feelings  of  men  less  to  be  trifled  with  than  when, 
after  long  and  fierce  alienation,  they  are  on  the  point 
of  coming  together.  Abner  had  brought  the  tribes  of 
Israel  to  that  point,  hut  now,  like  a  flock  of  birds 
frightened  by  a  shot,  they  were  certain  to  fly  asunder. 
All  this  danger  Joab  set  at  nought,  the  one  thought  of 
taking  revenge  for  the  death  of  his  brother  absorbing 
every  other,  and  making  him,  like  so  many  other  men 
when  excited  by  a  guilty  passion,  utterly  regardless  of 
every  consequence  provided  only  his  revenge  was 
satisfied. 

How  did  David  act  toward  Joab  ?  Most  kings 
would  at  once  have  put  him  to  death,  and  David's 
subsequent  action  towards  the  murderers  of  Ishbosheth 
shows  that,  even  in  his  judgment,  this  would  have  been 
the  proper  retribution  on  Joab  for  his  bloody  deed. 
But  David  did  not  feel  himself  strong  enough  to  deal 
with   Joab   according   to  his    deserts.     It  might    have 


iii.  22-39  ;iv.]        ADNER  AND  ISHBOSHETH.  53 

been  better  for  him  during  the  rest  of  his  life  if  he  had 
acted  with  more  vigour  now.  But  instead  of  making 
an  example  of  Joab,  he  contented  himself  with  pouring 
out  on  him  a  vial  of  indignation,  publicly  washing  his 
hands  of  the  nefarious  transaction,  and  pronouncing  on 
its  author  and  his  family  a  terrible  malediction.  We 
cannot  but  shrink  from  the  way  in  which  David  brought 
in  Joab's  family  to  share  his  curse :  '*  Let  there  not 
fail  from  the  house  of  Joab  one  that  hath  an  issue,  or 
that  is  a  leper,  or  that  leaneth  on  a  staff,  or  that  falleth 
on  the  sword,  or  that  lacketh  bread."  Yet  we  must 
remember  that  according  to  the  sentiment  of  those 
tim.es  a  man  and  his  house  were  so  identified  that  the 
punishment  due  to  the  head  was  regarded  as  due  to 
the  whole.  In  our  day  we  see  a  law  in  constant 
operation  which  visits  iniquities  of  the  parents  upon 
the  children  with  a  terrible  retribution.  The  drunkard's 
children  are  woeful  sufferers  for  their  parent's  sin  ;  the 
family  of  the  felon  carries  a  stigma  for  ever.  We 
recognise  this  as  a  law  of  Providence ;  but  we  do  not 
act  on  it  ourselves  in  inflicting  punishment.  In  David's 
time,  however,  and  throughout  the  whole  Old  Testament 
period,  punishments  due  to  the  fathers  were  formally 
shared  by  their  families.  When  Joshua  sentenced 
Achan  to  die  for  his  crime  in  stealing  from  the  spoils  of 
Jericho  a  wedge  of  gold  and  a  Babylonish  garment,  his 
wife  and  children  were  put  to  death  along  with  him. 
In  denouncing  the  curse  on  Joab's  family  as  well  as 
himself,  David  therefore  only  recognised  a  law  which 
was  universally  acted  on  in  his  day.  The  law  may 
have  been  a  hard  one,  but  we  are  not  to  blame  David 
for  acting  on  a  principle  of  retribution  universally 
acknowledged.  We  are  to  remember,  too,  that  David 
was  now  acting  in  a  public  capacity,  and  as  the  chief 


54  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

magistrate  of  the  nation.  If  he  had  put  Joab  to  death, 
his  act  would  have  involved  his  family  in  many  a  woe  ; 
in  denouncing  his  deeds  and  calling  for  retribution  on 
them  generation  after  generation,  he  only  carried  out 
the  same  principle  a  little  further.  That  Joab  deserved 
to  die  for  his  dastardly  crime,  none  could  have  denied  ; 
if  David  abstained  from  inflicting  that  punishment,  it 
was  only  natural  that  he  should  be  very  emphatic  in 
proclaiming  what  such  a  criminal  might  look  for,  in 
never-failing  visitations  on  himself  and  his  seed,  when 
he  was  left  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  God  of  justice. 

Having  thus  disposed  of  Joab,  David  had  next  to 
dispose  of  the  dead  body  of  Abner.  He  determined 
that  every  circumstance  connected  with  Abner's  funeral 
should  manifest  the  sincerity  of  his  grief  at  his  un- 
timely end.  In  the  first  place,  he  caused  him  to  be 
buried  at  Hebron.  We  know  of  the  tomb  at  Hebron 
where  the  bodies  of  the  patriarchs  lay ;  if  it  was  at 
all  legitimate  to  place  others  in  that  grave,  we  may 
believe  that  a  place  in  it  was  found  for  Abner.  In  the 
second  place,  the  mourning  company  attended  the 
funeral  with  rent  clothes  and  girdings  of  sackcloth, 
while  the  king  himself  followed  the  bier,  and  at  the 
grave  both  king  and  people  gave  way  to  a  burst  of 
tears.  In  the  third  place,  the  king  pronounced  an  elegy 
over  him,  short,  but  expressive  of  his  sense  of  the 
unworthy    death  which  had    come  to  such  a  man: — 

"  Should  Abner  die  as  a  fool  dieth  ? 
Thy  hands  were  not  bound,  nor  thy  feet  put  into  fetters ; 
As  a  man  falleth  before  the  children  of  iniquity,  so  didst  thou  fall." 

Had  he  died  the  death  of  one  taken  in  battle,  his 
bound  hands  and  his  feet  in  fetters  would  have  denoted 
that  after  honourable  conflict  he  had  been  defeated  in 


iii.  22-39  :iv.]        ABNER  AND  ISHBOSHETH.  55  , 

the  field,  and  that  he  died  the  death  due  to  a  public  \ 

enemy.     Instead  of  this,  he  had  fallen  before  the  children  * 

of  iniquity,  before  men  mean  enough  to  betray  him  and  \ 

murder  him,  while  he  was  under  the  protection  of  the 
king.  In  the  fourth  place,  he  sternly  refused  to  eat  bread 
till  that  day,  so  full  of  darkness  and  infamy,  should 
have  passed  away.  The  public  manifestations  of  David's 
grief  showed  very  clearly  how  far  he  was  from  approving  ': 

of  the   death    of  Abner.     And    they  had    the  desired  j 

effect.     The   people  were    pleased    with    the   evidence  j 

afforded  of  David's  feehngs,   and   the  event  that  had  | 

seemed  likely  to  destroy  his   prospects  turned  out  in  I 

this  way  in  his   favour.     ^'  The  people  took  notice  of  \ 

this,  and  it  pleased  them,  as  whatsoever  the  king  did  \ 

pleased  all  the  people."     It  was  another  evidence  of  | 

the   conquering  power  of  goodness   and   forbearance.  \ 

By  his  generous  treatment  of  his  foes,  David  secured  a  ^ 

position  in  the  hearts  of  his  people,  and  established  his  [ 

kingdom  on   a  basis   of  security  which  he  could  not  j 

have  obtained  by  any  amount  of  severity.     For  ages  j 

and  ages,  the  two  methods  of  dealing  with  a  reluctant  ! 

people,  generosity  and  severity,  have  been  pitted  against  1 

each  other,   and  always  with   the  effect   that  severity  \ 

fails  and  generosity  succeeds.     There  were  many  who  ^ 

were  indignant  at  the  clemency  shown  by  Lord  Canning  |J 

after  the  Indian  mutiny.     They  would  have  had  him  | 

inspire   terror   by   acts   of  awful   severity.       But    the  | 

peaceful  career  of  our  Indian  empire  and  the  absence  | 

of  any  attempt  to  renew  the  insurrection  since  that  time 
show  that  the  policy  of  clemency  was  the  policy  of 
wisdom  and  of  success. 

Still  another  step  was  taken  by  David  that  shows 
how  painfully  he  was  impressed  by  the  death  of  Abner. 
To  "  his  servants  " — that  is,  his  cabinet  or  his  staiF— he 

s 

\ 

I 
I'. 

I 
I 


56  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

said  in  confidence,  "  Know  ye  not  that  there  is  a  prince 
and  a  great  man  fallen  this  day  in  Israel  ?  "  He  recog- 
nised in  xA.bner  one  of  those  men  of  consummate  ability 
who  are  born  to  rule,  or  at  least  to  render  the  highest 
service  to  the  actual  ruler  of  a  country  by  their  great 
influence  over  men.  It  seems  very  probable  that  he 
looked  to  him  as  his  own  chief  officer  for  the  future. 
Rebel  though  he  had  been,  he  seemed  quite  cured  of 
his  rebellion,  and  now  that  he  cordially  acknowledged 
David's  right  to  the  throne,  he  would  probably  have 
been  his  right-hand  man,  Abner,  Saul's  cousin,  was 
probably  a  much  older  man  than  Joab,  who  was  David's 
nephew,  and  who  could  not  have  been  much  older  than 
David  himself.  The  loss  of  Abner  was  a  great  per- 
sonal loss  especially  as  it  threw  him  more  into  the 
hands  of  these  sons  of  Zeruiah,  Joab  and  Abishai, 
whose  impetuous,  lordly  temper  was  too  much  for  him 
to  restrain.  The  representation  to  his  confidential 
servants,  "  I  am  weak,  and  these  men,  the  sons  of 
Zeruiah,  are  too  strong  for  me,"  was  an  appeal  to  them 
for  cordial  help  in  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom,  in  order 
that  Joab  and  his  brother  might  not  be  able  to  carry 
everything  their  own  way.  David,  like  many  another 
man,  needed  to  say.  Save  me  from  my  friends.  We  get 
a  vivid  glimpse  of  the  perplexities  of  kings,  and  of  the 
compensations  of  a  humbler  lot.  Men  in  high  places, 
worried  by  the  difficulties  of  managing  their  affairs  and 
servants,  and  by  the  endless  annoyances  to  which  their 
jealousies  and  their  self-will  give  rise,  may  find  much  to 
envy  in  the  simple,  unembarrassed  life  of  the  humblest 
of  the  people. 

From  the  assassination  of  Abner,  the  real  source 
of  the  opposition  that  had  been  raised  to  David,  the 
narrative  proceeds  to  the  assassination  of  Ishbosheth, 


iii.  22-39;  v]        ABXER  AND  ISHBOSHETH.  57 

i 

the  titular  king.     ''  When  Saul's  son  heard  that  Abner  > 
was  dead  in  Hebron,   his   hands  were  feeble,    and   all 

the  Israelites  were  troubled."     The  contrast  is  striking  \ 

between  his  conduct  under  difficulty  and  that  of  David.  | 

In  the  history  of  the  latter,  faith  often  faltered  in  times  | 

of  trouble,  and  the  spirit  of  distrust  found  a  footing  in  | 

his  soul.     But  these  occasions  occurred  in  the  course  \ 

of    protracted     and     terrible     struggles ;     they     were  r 

exceptions  to  his  usual  bearing  ;  faith  commonly  bore  j 

him  up  in  his  darkest  trials.      Ishbosheth,  on  the  other  i 

hand,  seems  to  have  had  no   resource,  no  sustaining  | 
power  whatever,  under  visible  reverses.     David's  slips 

were   like  the    temporary  falling    back   of  the  gallant  ! 

soldier   when    surprised    by    a    sudden    onslaught,    or  I 

when,  fagged  and  weary,  he  is  driven  back  by  superior  \ 

numbers;    but  as  soon    as  he  has  recovered   himself,  J 

he  dashes    back   undaunted    to    the   conflict.       Ishbo-  \ 

sheth  was  like  the  soldier  who  throws  down  his  arms  1 

and  rushes  from  the  field  as  soon  as  he  feels  the  bitter  i 

storm  of  battle.     With  all  his  falls,   there  was  some-  ; 

thing  in  David  that  showed  him  to  be  cast  in  a  different  ; 

mould  from  ordinary  men.     He  was  habitually  aiming  [ 

at  a  higher  standard,  and  upheld  by  the  consciousness  \ 
of  a  higher  strength  ;  he  was  ever  and  anon  resorting  to 
"  the  secret  place  of  the  Most   High,"   taking  hold  of 

Him  as  his  covenant  God,  and  labouring  to  draw  down  ;^ 

from  Him  the  inspiration  and  the  strength  of  a  nobler  \ 

Hfe  than  that  of  the  mass  of  the  children  of  men.  ;; 

The  godless  course  which  Ishbosheth  had    followed  \ 

in  setting  up  a  claim  to  the  throne  in  opposition  to  the  [ 

Divine  call  of  David  not  only  lost  him  the  distinction  I 

he  coveted,   but  cost  him  his  life.     He  made  himself  | 

a  mark  for  treacherous  and   heartless  men  ;    and   one  I 

day,  while  lying  in  his  bed  at  noon,  was  despatched  by  I 


58  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

two  of  his  servants.  The  two  men  that  murdered  him 
seem  to  have  been  among  those  whom  Saul  enriched 
with  the  spoil  of  the  Gibeonites.  They  were  brothers, 
men  of  Beeroth,  which  was  formerly  one  of  the  cities 
of  the  Gibeonites,  but  was  now  reckoned  to  Benjamin. 

Saul  appears  to  have  attacked  the  Beerothites,  and 
given  their  property  to  his  favourites  (comp.  i  Sam. 
xxii.  7  and  2  Sam.  xxi.  2).  A  curse  went  with  the 
transaction ;  Ishbosheth,  one  of  Saul's  sons,  was 
murdered  by  two  of  those  who  were  enriched  by  the 
unhallowed  deed ;  and  many  years  after,  his  bloody 
house  had  to  yield  up  seven  of  his  sons  to  justice, 
when  a  great  famine  showed  that  for  this  crime  wrath 
rested  on  the  land. 

The  murderers  of  Ishbosheth,  Baanah  and  Rechab, 
mistaking  the  character  of  David  as  much  as  it  had 
been  mistaken  by  the  Amalekite  who  pretended  that  he 
had  slain  Saul,  hastened  to  Hebron,  bearing  with  them 
the  head  of  their  victim,  a  ghastly  evidence  of  the 
reality  of  the  deed.  This  revolting  trophy  they  carried 
all  the  way  from  Mahanaim  to  Hebron,  a  distance 
of  some  fifty  miles.  Mean  and  selfish  themselves, 
they  thought  other  men  must  be  the  same.  They 
were  among  those  poor  creatures  who  are  unable  to 
rise  above  their  own  poor  level  in  their  conceptions 
of  others.  When  they  presented  themselves  before 
David,  he  showed  all  his  former  superiority  to  selfish, 
jealous  feelings.  He  was  roused  indeed  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  indignation.  We  can  hardly  conceive  the 
astonishment  and  horror  with  which  they  would  receive 
his  answer,  "  As  the  Lord  liveth,  who  hath  redeemed 
my  soul  out  of  all  adversity,  when  one  told  me  saying. 
Behold,  Saul  is  dead,  thinking  to  have  brought  good 
tidings,  I  took  hold  on  him  and  slew  him   in  Ziklag, 


iii.  22-39;  iv.]        ABNER  AND  ISHBOSHETH,  59 

who  thought  that  I  would  have  given  him  a  reward  for 
his  tidings.  How  much  more  when  wicked  men  have 
slain  a  righteous  person  in  his  own  house  upon  his 
bed !  Shall  I  not  therefore  require  his  blood  at  your 
hand,  and  take  you  away  from  the  earth  ?  "  Simple 
death  was  not  judged  a  severe  enough  punishment  for 
such  guilt ;  as  they  had  cut  off  the  head  of  Ishbosheth 
after  killing  him,  so  after  they  were  slain  their  hands 
and  their  feet  were  cut  off;  and  thereafter  they  were 
hanged  over  the  pool  in  Hebron — a  token  of  the 
execration  in  which  the  crime  v/as  held.  Here  was 
another  evidence  that  deeds  of  violence  done  to  his 
rivals,  so  far  from  finding  acceptance,  were  detestable 
in  the  eyes  of  David.  And  here  was  another  fulfilment 
of  the  resolution  which  he  had  made  when  he  took 
possession  of  the  throne — '^  I  will  early  destroy  all  the 
wicked  of  the  land,  that. I  may  cut  off  all  wicked  doers 
from  the  city  of  the  Lord." 

These  rapid,  instantaneous  executions  by  order  of 
David  have  raised  painful  feelings  in  many.  Granting 
that  the  retribution  was  justly  deserved,  and  granting 
that  the  rapidity  of  the  punishment  was  in  accord  with  [ 

military  law,  ancient  and  modern,  and  that  it  was  neces-  \ 

sary  in  order  to  make  a  due  impression  on  the  people,  | 

still  it  may  be  asked.  How  could  David,  as  a  pious  man,  | 

hurry  these  sinners    into  the  presence  of  their  Judge  i^ 

without  giving  them  any  exhortation  to  repentance  or  | 

leaving   them  a  moment  in  which  to  ask  for  mercy  ?  | 

The  question  is  undoubtedly  a  difficult  one.     But  the  f 

difficulty  arises  in  a  great  degree  from  our  ascribing  to  ■ 

David  and   others   the  same  knowledge  of  the  future  j 

state  and  the  same  vivid  impressions  regarding  it  that  | 

we  have  ourselves.     We  often  forget  that  to  those  who  I 

lived  in  the  Old  Testament  the  future  life  was  wrapped  1 

I 


6o  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

in   far  greater   obscurity  than   it  is  to  us.     That  goodl 
men   had  no   knowledge   of  it,  we  cannot  allow  ;    but, 
certainly  they  knew  vastly  less  about  it  than  has  been? 
revealed  to  us.     And  the  general  effect  of  this  was  that 
the  consciousness  of  a  future  life  was  much  fainter  even 
among  good  men  then  than  now.     They  did  not  think 
about  it ;  it  was  not  present  to  their  thoughts.     There  is 
no  use  trying  to  make  David  either  a  wiser  or  a  better  man- 
than  he  was.     There  is  no  use  trying  to  place  him  high 
above  the  level  or  the  light  of  his  age.     If  it  be  asked, 
How  did  David  feel  with  reference  to  the  future  life  of 
these  men  ?  the  answer  is,  that  probably  it  was  not  much, 
if  at  all,  in  his  thoughts.     That  which  was  prominent 
in  his  thoughts  was  that  they  had  sacrificed  their  lives 
by  their  atrocious  wickedness,  and  the  sooner  they  were 
punished  the  better.     If  he  thought  of  their  future,  he 
would  feel  that  they  were  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  that 
they  would  be  judged   by  Him  according  to  the  tenor 
of  their  lives.     It  cannot  be  said  that  compassion  for  , 
them  mingled  with    David's    feelings.     The   one   pro- 
minent feeling  he  had  was  that  of  their  guilt ;  for  that 
they  must  suffer.     And  David,  like  other  soldiers  who 
have  shed  much  blocd,  was  so  accustomed  to  the  sight 
of  violent  death,  that  the  horror  which  it  usually  excites 
was  no  longer  familiar  to  him. 

It  is  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  that  has  brought 
life  and  immortahty  to  light.  So  far  from  the  future 
life  being  a  dim  and  shadowy  revelation,  it  is  now  one 
of  the  clearest  doctrines  of  the  faith.  It  is  one  of  the 
doctrines  which  every  earnest  preacher  of  the  Gospel 
is  profoundly  earnest  in  dwelling  on.  That  death 
ushers  us  into  the  presence  of  God,  that  after  death 
cometh  the  judgm.ent,  that  every  one  of  us  is  to  give 
account  of  himself  to  God,  that  the  final  condition  of 


iii.  22  39 ;  iv.]        ABNER   AiVD  ISIIBOSHETH.  6i 

men  is  to  be  one  of  misery  or  one  of  life,  are  among  the  | 

clearest  revelations  of  the  Gospel.    And  this  fact  invests  [ 

every   man's   death   with   profound  significance   in  the  \ 

Christian's  view.     That  the  condemned  criminal  may  I 

have    time    to    prepare,    our   courts   of   law  invariably  | 

interpose  an  interval    between    the    sentence  and    the  ') 

punishment.  Would  only  that  men  were  more  consis- 
tent here!  If  we  shudder  at  the  thought  of  a  dying 
sinner  appearing  in  all  the  blackness  of  his  guilt  before 
God,  let  us  think  more  how  we  may  turn  sinners  from 
their  wickedness  while  they  live.  Let  us  see  the 
atrocious  guilt  of  encouraging  them  in  ways'  of  sin  that 
cannot  but  bring  on  them  the  retribution  of  a  righteous 
God.     O  ye  who,   careless   yourselves,    laugh    at    the  "\ 

serious  impressions   and   scruples   of  others  ;  ye   who  \ 

teach  those  that  would  otherwise  do  better  to  drink  and 
gamble  and  especially  to  scoff;  ye  who  do  your  best 
to  frustrate  the  prayers  of  tender-hearted  fathers  and 
mothers  whose  deepest  desire  is  that  their  children 
may  be  saved  ;  ye,  in  one  word,  who  are  missionaries 
of  the  devil  and  help  to  people  hell — would  that  you 
pondered  your  awful  guilt  !  For  ^'  whosoever  shall 
cause  any  of  the  least  of  these  to  offend,  it  were  better 

for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck  \ 

\ 
and  he  were  cast  into  the  depths  of  the  sea."  \ 

I 

I 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DAVID  KING  OF  ALL  ISRAEL, 
2  Samuel  v.  i — 9. 

AFTER  seven  and  a  half  years  of  opposition,*  David 
was  now  left  without  a  rival,  and  the  representa- 
tives of  the  whole  tribes  came  to  Hebron  to  anoint  him 
king.  They  gave  three  reasons  for  their  act,  nearly  all 
of  which,  however,  v/ould  have  been  as  valid  at  the 
death  of  Saul  as  they  were  at  this  time. 

The  first  was  that  David  and  they  were  closely  re- 
lated— '^  Behold,  we  are  thy  bone  and  thy  flesh ; "  rather 
an  unusual  reason,  but  in  the  circumstances  not  un- 
natural. For  David's  alliance  with  the  Philistines  had 
thrown  some  doubt  on  his  nationality  ;  it  was  not  very 
clear  at  that  time  whether  he  was  to  be  regarded  as  a 
Hebrew  or  as  a  naturalized  Philistine ;  but  now  the 
doubts  that  had  existed  on  that  point  had  all  disap- 
peared ;  conclusive  evidence  had  been  afforded  that 
David  was  out-and-out  a  Hebrew,  and  therefore  that  he 
was  not  disqualified  for  the  Hebrew  throne. 

*  There  is  difficulty  in  adjusting  all  the  dates.  In  chap.  ii.  10,  it  is  said 
that  Ishbosheth  reigned  two  years.  The  usual  explanation  is  that  he 
reigned  two  years  before  war  broke  out  between  him  and  David. 
Another  supposition  is  that  there  was  an  interregnum  in  Israel  of  five 
and  a  half  years,  and  that  Ishbosheth  reigned  the  last  two  years  of 
David's  seven  and  a  half.  The  accuracy  of  the  text  has  been  questioned, 
and  it  has  been  proposed  (on  very  slender  MS.  authority)  to  read  that 
Ishbosheth  reigned  six  years  in  place  of  two. 


V.  1-9.]  DAVID  KING  OF  ALL  ISRAEL,  63 

This  conclusion  is  confirmed  by  what  they  give  as 
their  second  reason — his  former  exploits  and  services 
against  their  enemies.  "Also,  in  time  past,  v^hen  Saul 
was  king,  thou  wast  he  that  leddest  out  and  broughtest 
in  Israel."  In  former  days,  David  had  proved  himself 
Saul's  most  efficient  lieutenant ;  he  had  been  at  the 
head  of  the  armies  of  Israel,  and  his  achievements  in 
that  capacity  pointed  to  him  as  the  fit  and  natural 
successor  of  Saul. 

The  third  reason  is  the  most  conclusive — "  The  Lord 
said  to  thee.  Thou  shalt  feed  My  people  Israel;  and 
thou  shalt  be  a  captain  over  Israel."  It  was  little  to 
the  credit  of  the  elders  that  this  reason,  which  should  [ 

have  been  the  first,  and  which  needed  no  other  reasons  \ 

to  confirm  it,   was   given   by  them  as   the  last.     The  I 

truth,  however,  is,  that  if  they  had  made  it  their  first  [ 

and  great  reason,  they  would  on  the  very  face  of  their  \ 

speech  have  condemned  themselves.  Why,  if  this  was 
the  command  of  God,  had  they  been  so  long  of  carrying 
it  out  ?  Ought  not  effect  to  have  been  given  to  it  at 
the  very  first,  independent  of  all  other  reasons  whatso- 
ever ?  The  elders  cannot  but  give  it  a  place  among 
their  reasons  for  offering  him  the  throne ;  but  it  is  not 
allowed  to  have  its  own  place,  and  it  is  added  to  the  | 

others  as  if  they  needed  to  be  supplemented  before 
effect  could  be  given  to  it.     The  elders  did  not  show    ,  | 

that  supreme  regard  to  the  will  of  God  which  ought 
ever  to  be  the  first  consideration  in  every  loyal  heart.  | 

It  is  the  great  offence  of  multitudes,  even  among  those 
who  make  a  Christian  profession,  that  while  they  are 
willing  to  pay  regard  to  God's  will  as  one  of  many 
considerations,  they  are  not  prepared  to  pay  supreme 
regard  to  it.  It  may  be  taken  along  with  other  con- 
siderations, but  it  is  not  allowed  to  be  the  chief  con- 


64  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


sideration.  Religion  may  have  a  place  in  their  life,  but 
not  the  first  place.  But  can  a  service  thus  rendered 
be  acceptable  to  God  ?  Can  God  accept  the  second  or 
the  third  place  in  any  man's  regard  ?  Does  not  the 
first  commandment  dispose  of  this  question:  ^^Thou, 
shalt  have  no  other  gods  before  Me  "  ? 

"So  all  the  elders  of  Israel  came  to  the  king  to 
Hebron ;  and  King  David  made  a  league  with  them  in 
Hebron  before  the  Lord;  and  they  anointed  David 
king  over  Israel." 

It  was  a  happy  circumstance  that  David  was  able  to 
neutralise  the  effects  of  the  murders  of  Abner  and 
Ishbosheth,  and  to  convince  the  people  that  he  had  no 
share  in  these  crimes.  Notwithstanding  the  prejudice 
against  his  side  which  in  themselves  they  were  fitted 
to  create  in  the  supporters  of  Saul's  family,  they  did 
not  cause  any  further  opposition  to  his  claims.  The 
tact  of  the  king  removed  any  stumbling-block  that 
might  have  arisen  from  these  untoward  events.  And 
thus  the  throne  of  David  was  at  last  set  up,  amid  the 
universal  approval  of  the  nation. 

This  was  a  most  memorable  event  in  David's  history. 
It  was  the  fulfilment  of  one  great  instalment  of  God's 
promises  to  him.  It  was  fitted  very  greatly  to  deepen 
his  trust  in  God,  as  his  Protector  and  his  Friend.  To 
be  able  to  look  back  on  even  one  case  of  a  Divine 
promise  distinctly  fulfilled  to  us  is  a  great  help  to  faith 
in  all  future  time.  For  David  to  be  able  to  look  back  on 
that  early  period  of  his  life,  so  crowded  with  trials  and 
sufferings,  perplexities  and  dangers,  and  to  mark  how 
God  had  delivered  him  from  every  one  of  them,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  fearful  opposition  that  had  been  raised 
against  him,  had  at  last  seated  him  firmly  on  the 
throne,   was  well  fitted  to  advance  the  spirit  of  trust 


V.  1-9.]  DAVID  KING  OF  ALL  ISRAEL.  65 

to  that  place  of  supremacy  which  it  gained  in  him.  After 
such  an  overwhelming  experience,  it  was  little  wonder 
that  his  trust  in  God  became  so  strong,  and  his  purpose 
to  serve  God  so  intense.  The  sorrows  of  death  had 
compassed  him,  and  the  pains  of  Hades  had  taken  hold 
on  him,  yet  the  Lord  had  been  with  him,  and  had  most 
w^onderfully  delivered  him.  And  in  token  of  his  deliver- 
ance he  makes  his  vow  of  continual  service,  "  O  Lord, 
truly  I  am  Thy  servant ;  I  am  Thy  servant  and  the  son 
of  Thine  handmaid  ;  Thou  hast  loosed  my  bonds.  I 
will  offer  to  Thee  the  sacrifices  of  praise,  and  will  call 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord." 

We  can  hardly  pass  from  this  event  in  David's  his- 
tory without  recalling  his  typical  relation  to  Him  who 
in  after-years  was  to  be  known  as  the  "Son  of  David." 
The  resemblance  between  the  early  history  of  David 
and  that  of  our  blessed  Lord  in  some  of  its  features  is 
too  obvious  to  need  to  be  pointed  out.  Like  David, 
Jesus  spends  His  early  years  in  the  obscurity  of  a 
country  village.  Like  him,  He  enters  on  His  public  life 
under  a  striking  and  convincing  evidence  of  the  Divine 
favour — David  by  conquering  Goliath,  Jesus  by  the  de- 
scent of  the  Spirit  at  His  baptism,  and  the  voice  from 
heaven  which  proclaimed,  ''  This  is  My  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased."  Like  David,  soon  after  His 
Divine  call  Jesus  is  led  out  to  the  wilderness,  to  undergo 
hardship  and  temptation  ;  but,  unHke  David,  He  con- 
quers the  enemy  at  every  onset.  Like  David,  Jesus 
attaches  to  Himself  a  small  but  valiant  band  of  fol- 
lowers, whose  achievements  in  the  spiritual  warfare  rival 
the  deeds  of  David's  "worthies"  in  the  natural.  Like 
David,  Jesus  is  concerned  for  His  relatives ;  David,  in 
his  extremity,  commits  his  father  and  mother  to  the 
king  of  Moab  :  Jesus,  on  the  cross,  commits  His  mother 

VOL.    II.  ^ 


66  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 


to  the  beloved  disciple.  In  the  higher  exercises  of 
David's  spirit,  too,  there  is  much  that  resembles  the 
experiences  of  Christ.  The  convincing  proof  of  this  is, 
that  most  of  the  Psalms  which  the  Christian  Church  has 
ever  held  to  be  Messianic  have  their  foundation  in  the 
experiences  of  David.  It  is  impossible  not  to  see  that  in 
one  sense  there  must  have  been  a  measureless  distance 
between  the  experience  of  a  sinful  man  like  David 
and  that  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  In  the  Divinity  of 
His  person,  the  atoning  efficacy  of  His  death,  and  the 
glory  of  His  resurrection,  Jesus  is  high  above  any  of  the 
sons  of  men.  Yet  there  must  likewise  have  been  some 
marvellous  similarity  between  Him  and  David,  seeing 
that  David's  words  of  sorrow  and  of  hope  were  so  often 
accepted  by  Jesus  to  express  His  own  emotions. 
Strange  indeed  it  is  that  the  words  in  which  David,  in 
the  twenty-second  Psalm,  pours  out  the  desolation  of 
his  spirit,  were  the  words  in  which  Jesus  found  expres- 
sion for  His  unexampled  distress  upon  the  cross. 
Strange,  too,  that  David's  deliverances  were  so  like 
Christ's  that  the  same  language  does  for  both ;  nay, 
that  the  very  words  in  which  Jesus  commended  His 
soul  to  the  Father,  as  it  was  passing  from  His  body, 
were  words  which  had  first  been  used  by  David. 

But  it  does  not  concern  us  at  present  to  look  so 
much  at  the  general  resemblances  between  David  and 
our  blessed  Lord,  as  at  the  analogy  in  the  fortunes  of 
their  respective  kingdoms.  And  here  the  most  obvious 
feature  is  the  bitter  opposition  to  their  claims  offered 
in  both  instances  even  by  those  who  might  have  been 
expected  most  cordially  to  welcome  them.  Of  both  it 
might  be  said,  ^'They  came  unto  their  own,  but  their 
own  received  them  not."  First,  David  is  hunted  almost 
to  death  by  Saul;  and  then,  even  after  Saul's  death, 


1-9.1  DA  VID  KING  OF  ALL  ISRAEL.  67 


his  claims  are  resisted  by  most  of  the  tribes.  So  in 
His  lifetime  Jesus  encounters  all  the  hatred  and  opposi- 
tion of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees ;  and  even  after  His 
resurrection,  the  council  do  their  utmost  to  denounce 
His  claims  and  frighten  His  followers.  Against  the  one 
and  the  other  the  enemy  brings  to  bear  all  the  devices 
of  hatred  and  opposition.  When  Jesus  rose  from  the 
grave,  we  see  Him  personally  raised  high  above  all 
the  efforts  of  His  enemies  ;  when  David  was  acknow- 
ledged king  by  all  Israel,  he  reached  a  corresponding 
elevation.  And  now  that  David  is  recognised  as  king, 
how  do  we  find  him  employing  his  energies  ?  It  is  to 
defend  and  bless  his  kingdom,  to  obtain  for  it  peace 
and  prosperity,  to  expel  its  foes,  to  secure  to  the  utmost 
of  his  power  the  welfare  of  all  his  people.  From  His 
throne  in  glory,  Jesus  does  the  same.  And  what 
encouragement  may  not  the  friends  and  subjects  of 
Christ's  kingdom  derive  from  the  example  of  David  ! 
For  if  David,  once  he  was  established  in  his  kingdom, 
spared  no  effort  to  do  good  to  his  people,  if  he  scattered 
blessings  among  them  from  the  stores  which  he  was 
able  to  command,  how  much  more  may  Christ  be  relied 
Dn  to  do  the  same  !  Has  He  not  been  placed  far  above 
all  principality  and  power,  and  every  name  that  is 
named,  and  been  made  '^  Head  over  all  things  for  the 
Church  which  is  His  body  "  ?  Rejoice  then,  ye  mem- 
'bers  of  Christ's  kingdom !  Raise  your  eyes  to  the 
-ihrone  of  glory,  and  see  how  God  has  set  His  King 
upon  His  holy  hill  of  Zion  !  And  be  encouraged  to 
-fell  Him  of  all  your  own  needs  and  the  troubles  and 
iieeds  of  His  Church ;  for  has  He  not  ascended  on  high, 
^nd  led  captivity  captive,  and  received  gifts  for  men  ? 
And  if  you  have  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  will 
vou  not  ask,  and    shall  you  not  receive    according  to 


68  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

your   faith  ?      Will    not    God    supply    all   your   need ; 
according  to  His  riches  in  glory  by  Christ  Jesus  ? 

i 

From  the  spectacle  at  Hebron,  when  all  the  elders; 
of  Israel  confirmed  David  on  the  throne,  and  entered! 
into  a  solemn  league  with  reference  to  the  kingdom, 
we  pass  with  David  to  the  field  of  battle.     The  first 
enterprise    to   which   he   addressed    himself  was    the  | 
capture  of  Jerusalem,   or  rather  of  the  stronghold  of 
Zion.     It  is  not  expressly  stated  that  he  consulted  God 
before  taking  this  step,  but  we    can    hardly  suppose 
that  he  would  do  it  without  Divine  direction.     From  : 
the  days  of  Moses,  God  had  taught  His  people  that  a- 
place  would  be  appointed  by  Him  where  He  would  set  ; 
His  name;  Jerusalem  was   to  be  that   place;  and   it' 
cannot  be  thought  that  when  David  would  not  even  go  \ 
up  to  Hebron  without  consulting  the  Lord,  he  would 
proceed  to  make  Jerusalem  his  capital  without  a  Divine 
warrant. 

No  doubt  the  place  was  well  known  to  him.     It  had  : 
already  received  consecration  when  Melchizedek  reigned  \ 
in  it,  "  king  of  righteousness  and  king  of  peace."     In  i 
the  days  of  Joshua  its  king  was   Adonizedek,   "lord  i 
of  righteousness" — a  noble  title,  brought  down  from 
the  days  of  Melchizedek,  however  unworthy  the  bearer 
of  it  might  be  of  the  designation,  for  he  was  the  head''^ 
of  the  confederacy  against  Joshua  (Josh.  x.  I,  3),  and  ? 
he  ended  his  career  by  being  hanged  on  a  tree.     After 
the  slaughter  of  the  Philistine,  David  had   carried  his  ; 
head  to  Jerusalem,  or  to  some  place  so  near  that  it  ; 
might  be  called  by  that  name ;  very  probably  Nob  was  I 
the  place,   which,  according  to  an   old   tradition,  was 
situated  on  the  slope  of  Mount  Olivet.     Often  in  his 
wanderings,  when  his  mind  was  much  occupied  with 


?  V.  I-9-]  I^^4  VID  KING  OF  ALL  ISRAEL.  69 

fortresses  and  defences,  the  image  of  this  place  would 

occur    to    him ;    observing    how    the   mountains    were  \ 

round  about  Jerusalem,   he  would  see  how  well  it  was  S 

adapted  to  be  the  metropolis  of  the  country.     But  this  ' 

could  not  be  done  while  the  stronghold  of  Zion  was  in 

the  hands   of  the  Jebusites,   and  while   the  Jebusites  : 

were  so  numerous    that    they   might    be   called    '^  the  ; 

people  of  the  land."  j 

So  impregnable  was  this  stronghold  deemed,  that  any 

attempt  that  David  might  make  to  get  possession  of  it  ! 

was  treated  with  contempt.     The  precise  circumstances  ! 

of  the  siege  are  somewhat  obscure  ;  if  we  compare  the  j 

marginal    readings    and    the    text    in    the   Authorized  [ 

Version,  and  still  more  in  the  Revised  Version,  we  may  \ 

see  what  difficulty  our  translators   had   in  arriving  at  ! 

the    meaning   of  the    passage.      The    most    probable  \ 

.supposition  is  that  the  Jebusites  placed  their  lame  and  \ 

blind  on  the  walls,  to  show  how  Httle  artificial  defence  ! 

the  place  needed,  and  defied  David  to  touch  even  these  J 

sorry  defenders.     Such  defiance  David   could  not   but  ! 

have  regarded  as  he  regarded  the  defiance  of  Goliath —  | 

as  an  insult  to  that  mighty  God  in  whose  name  and  | 

in  whose  strength  he  carried  on  his  work.     Advancing  I 

in   the  same   strength   in   which   he   advanced   against  ^ 

Goliath,    he    got    possession    of  the    stronghold.       To  I 

stimulate  the  chivalry  of  his  men  he  had  promised  the  a 

first   place  in   his   army  to  whoever,  by  means   of  the  t 

watercourse,  should   first  get   on   the  battlements  and  f 
defeat  the  Jebusites.     Joab  was   the    man   who   made 
this    daring    and    successful    attempt.       Reaping    the 
promised  reward,  he  thereby  raised  himself  to  the  first 
place  in  the  now  united  forces  of  the  twelve  tribes  of 

Israel.     After  the  murder  of  Abner,  he  had  probably  j 

been  degraded ;  but  now,  by  his  dash  and  bravery,  he  j 

\ 

\ 


70  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

established  his  position  on  a  firmer  basis  than  ever.! 
While  he  contributed  by  this  means  to  the  security' 
and  glory  of  the  kingdom,  he  diminished  at  the  same 
time  the  king's  personal  satisfaction,  inasmuch  as 
David  could  not  regard  without  anxiety  the  possessior 
of  so  much  power  and  influence  by  so  daring  andl 
useful,  but  unscrupulous  and  bold-tempered,  a  man. 

The  place  thus  taken  was  called  the  city,  and  some-' 
times  the  castle,  of  David,  and  it  became  from  this  time: 
his  residence  and  the  capital  of  his  kingdom.  Much  I 
though  the  various  sites  in  Jerusalem  have  been, 
debated,  it  is  surely  beyond  reasonable  doubt  that  thei 
fortress  thus  occupied  was  Mount  Zion,  the  samt, 
height  which  still  exists  in  the  south-western  comer; 
of  the  area  which  came  to  be  covered  by  Jerusalem^:' 
This  seems  to  have  been  the  only  part  that  the  Jebusites  i 
had  fortified,  and  with  the  loss  of  this  stronghold  their/ 
hold  of  other  parts  of  Jerusalem  was  lost.  Henceforth,  \ 
as  a  people,  they  disappear  from  Jerusalem,  although' 
individual  Jebusites  might  still,  Hke  Araunah,  hold; 
patches  of  land  in  the  neighbourhood  (2  Sam.  xxiv.  16). 
The  captured  fortress  was  turned  by  David  into  his  i 
royal  residence.  And  seeing  that  a  military  strong- 
hold was  very  inadequate  for  the  purposes  of  a  capital,  . 
he  began,  by  the  building  of  Millo,  that  extension  of: 
the  city  which  was  afterwards  carried  out  by  others  bri , 
so  large  a  scale.  j 

By  thus  taking  possession  of  Mount  Zion  and  com- 
mencing those  extensions  which  helped  to  make  Jeru- ; 
salem  so  great  and  celebrated  a  city,  David  introduced! 
two  names  into  the  sacred  language  of  the  Bible  which  . 
have  ever  since  retained  a  halo,  surpassing  all  other  \ 
names  in  the  world.  Yet,  very  obviously,  it  was  nothing  ' 
in  the  little  hill  which  has  borne  the  name  of  Zion  for  so 


V.  1-9-]  DAVID  KING  OF  ALL  ISRAEL.  71 

man}^  centuries,  nor  in  the  physical  features  of  the  city  of 
Jerusalem,  that  has  given  them  their  remarkable  distinc- 
tion. Neither  is  it  for  mere  historical  or  intellectual 
associations,  in  the  common  sense  of  the  term,  that  they 
have  attained  their  eminence.  It  would  not  be  difficult 
to  find  more  picturesque  rocks  than  Zion  and  more 
striking  cities  than  Jerusalem.  It  v^^ould  not  be  difficult 
to  find  places  more  memorable  in  art,  in  science,  and 
intellectual  culture.  That  which  gives  them  their  un- 
rivalled pre-eminence  is  their  relation  to  God's  revelation 
of  Himself  to  man.  Zion  was  memorable  because  it 
was    God's   dwelling-place,  Jerusalem  because    it  was  | 

the   city  of  the  great  King.      If  Jerusalem    and  Zion  ! 

impress  our  imagination  even  above  other  places,  it  is  \ 

because  God  had  so  much  to  do  with  them.     The  very  \ 

idea  of  God  makes  them  great.  I 

But  they  impress  much  more  than  our  imagination.  | 

We  recall  the  unrivalled  moral  and  spiritual  forces  that 
were  concentrated  there  :  the  goodly  fellowship  of  the 
prophets,  the  noble  army  of  the  martyrs,  the  glorious 
company  of  the  apostles,  all  living  under  the  shadow 
of  Mount  Zion,  and  uttering  those  words  that  have 
moved  the  world  as  they  received  them  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Lord.  We  recall  Him  who  claimed  to  be  Himself 
God,  whose  blessed  lessons,  and  holy  life,  and  atoning 
death  were  so  closely  connected  with  Jerusalem,  and 
would  alone  have  made  it  for  ever  memorable,  even  if 
it  had  been  signalized  by  nothing  else.  Unless  David 
was  illuminated  from  above  to  a  far  greater  degree  than 
we  have  any  reason  to  believe,  he  could  have  little 
thought,  when  he  captured  that  citadel,  what  a  mar- 
vellous chapter  in  the  world's  history  he  was  beginning. 
Century  after  century,  millennium  after  millennium  has 
passed  ;  and  still  Zion  and  Jerusalem  draw  all  eyes  and 


73  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

hearts,  and  pilgrims  from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  as  they; 
look  even  on  the  ruins  of  former  days,  are  conscious  of 
a  thrill  which  no  other  city  in  all  the  world  can  give.i 
Nor  is  that  all.  When  a  name  has  to  be  found  on  earth 
for  the  home  of  the  blessed  in  heaven,  it  is  the  new 
Jerusalem;  when  the  scene  of  heavenly  worship,  vocal 
with  the  voice  of  harpers  harping  with  their  harps,  has 
to  be  distinguished,  it  is  said  to  be  Mount  Zion.  Is  not ' 
all  this  a  striking  testimony  that  nothing  so  ennobles 
either  places  or  men  as  the  gracious  fellowship  of  God  ? 
View  this  distinction  of  Jerusalem  and  Mount  Zion, 
if  you  choose,  as  the  result  of  mere  natural  causes. 
Though  the  effect  must  be  held  far  beyond  the  efficacy 
of  the  cause,  yet  you  have  this  fact :  that  the  places  ; 
in  all  the  world  that  to  civilized  mankind  have  become 
far  the  most  glorious  are  those  with  which  it  is 
believed  that  God  maintained  a  close  and  unexampled 
connection.  View  it,  as  it  ought  to  be  viewed,  as  a 
supernatural  result ;  count  the  fellowship  of  God  at 
Jerusalem  a  real  fellowship,  and  His  Spirit  a  living 
Spirit ;  count  the  presence  of  Jesus  Christ  to  have  been 
indeed  that  of  God  manifest  in  the  flesh ;  you  have  now 
a  cause  really  adequate  to  the  effect,  and  you  have  a 
far  more  striking  proof  than  before  of  the  dignity  and 
glory  which  God's  presence  brings.  Would  that  every 
one  of  you  might  ponder  the  lesson  of  Jerusalem  and' 
Zion  !  O  ye  sons  of  men,  God  has  drawn  nigh  to  you,  ; 
and  He  has  drawn  nigh  to  you  as  a  God  of  salvation.^ 
Hear  then  His  message  !  ''  For  if  they  escaped  not  who 
refused  Him  that  spake  on  earth,  much  more  shall  not 
we  escape  if  we  refuse  Him  that  speaketh  from 
heaven," 


CHAPTER    VII.  ,         f 

I 

THE  KINGDOM  ESTABLISHED,  j 

2  Samuel  v.  io — 25. 

THE   events   in    David's   reign   that   followed    the  | 

capture  of  Mount  Zion   and  the  appointment   of  | 

Jerusalem  as   the  capital  of  the  country  were   all   of  l 

a   prosperous   kind.     "David,"  we   are   told,   "waxed  \ 

greater  and  greater,  for  the  Lord  of  hosts  was   with  [ 

him."       "  And    David   perceived    that    the    Lord    had  \ 
established  him  to  be  king  over  Israel,  and  that  He  had 
exalted  his  kingdom  for  His  people  Israel's  sake." 

In  these  words  we  find  two  things :  a  fact  and  an 
explanation.  The  fact  is,  that  now  the  tide  fairly 
turned  in  David's  history,  and  that,  instead  of  a  sad 
chronicle  of  hardship  and  disappointment,    the  record 

of  his   reign   becomes  one  of  unmingled  success  and  j^ 

prosperity.     The  fact  is  far  from  an  unusual  one  in  the  | 

history  of  men's  lives.     How  often,  even  in  the  case  of  | 

men  who  have  become  eminefnt,  has  the  first  stage  of  | 

life  been  one  of  disappointment  and  sorrow,  and    the  | 

last  part  one  of  prosperity  so  great  as  to  exceed  the  | 

fondest  dreams  of  youth.     Effort  after  effort  has  been  \ 

made  by  a  young  man  to  get  a  footing  in  the  Hterary  | 

world,  but  his  books  have  proved  comparative  failures.  | 

At   last  he  issues  one  which  catches  in  a  remarkable  | 

degree    the    popular   taste,    and    thereafter   fame   and  ! 


74  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

fortune  attend  him,  and  lay  their  richest  offerings  at 
his  feet.  A  similar  tale  is  to  be  told  of  many  an 
artist  and  professional  man.  And  even  persons  of 
more  ordinary  gifts,  who  have  found  the  battle  of  life 
awfully  difficult  in  its  earlier  stages,  have  gradually, 
through  diligence  and  perseverance,  acquired  an  excellent 
position,  more  than  fulfilling  every  reasonable  desire 
for  success.  No  man  is  indeed  exempt  from  the  risk 
of  failure  if  he  chooses  a  path  of  life  for  which  he  has 
no  special  fitness,  or  if  he  encounters  a  storm  of  un- 
favourable contingencies;  but  it  is  an  encouraging 
thing  for  those  who  begin  life  under  hard  conditions, 
but  with  a  brave  heart  and  a  resolute  purpose  to  do 
their  best,  that,  as  a  general  rule,  the  sky  clears  as 
the  day  advances,  and  the  troubles  and  struggles  of 
the  morning  yield  to  success  and  enjoyment  later  in 
the  day. 

But  in  the  present  instance  we  have  not  merely  a 
statement  of  the  fact  that  the  tide  turned  in  the  case  of 
David,  giving  him  prosperity  and  enlargement  in  every 
quarter,  but  an  explanation  of  the  fact — it  v/as  due  to 
the  gracious  presence  and  favour  of  God.  This  by  no 
means  implies  that  his  adversities  were  due  to  an 
opposite  cause.  God  had  been  with  him  in  the  wilder- 
ness, save  when  he  resorted  to  deceit  and  other  tricks 
of  carnal  policy  ;  but  He  had  been  with  him  to  try  him 
and  to  train  him,  not  t6  crown  him  with  prosperity. 
But  now,  the  purpose  of  the  early  training  being 
accomplished,  God  is  with  him  to  ''grant  him  all  his 
heart's  desire  and  fulfil  all  his  counsel."  If  God, 
indeed,  had  not  been  with  him,  sanctifying  his  early 
trials,  He  would  not  have  been  with  him  in  the  end, 
crowning  him  with  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercies. 
But  in  the  time  of  their  trials,  God  is  with  His  people 


V.  IO-25.]  THE  KINGDOM  ESTABLISHED.  75 

more  in  secret,  hid,  at  least,  from  the  observation  of  the 
world  ;  when  the  time  comes  for  conspicuous  blessing 
^?nd  prosperity,  He  comes  more  into  view  in  His  own 
gracious  and  bountiful  character.  In  the  case  of  David, 
God  was  not  only  with  him,  but  David  '^  perceived  " 
it ;  he  was  conscious  of  the  fact.  His  filial  spirit 
recognized  the  source  of  all  his  prosperity  and  blessing, 
as  it  had  done  when  he  was  enabled  in  his  boyhood 
to  slay  the  lion  and  the  bear,  and  in  his  youth  to 
triumph  over  Goliath.  Unlike  many  successful  men, 
who  ascribe  their  success  so  largely  to  their  personal 
talents  and  ways  of  working,  he  felt  that  the  great 
factor  in  his  success  v/as  God.  If  he  possessed  talents 
and  had  used  them  to  advantage,  it  was  God  who  had 
given  them  originally,  and  it  was  God  who  had  enabled 
him  to  employ  them  well.  But  in  every  man's  career, 
there  are  many  other  elements  to  be  considered  besides 
his  own  abilities.  There  is  what  the  world  calls  ''luck," 
that  is  to  say  those  conditions  of  success  which  are 
quite  out  of  our  control ;  as  for  instance  in  business  the 
unexpected  rise  or  fall  of  markets,  the  occurrence  of 
favourable  openings,  the  honesty  or  dishonesty  of 
partners  and  connections,  the  stability  or  the  vicissitudes, 
of  investments.     The  difference  between  the  successful  \ 

man  of  the  world  and    the  successful   godly  man   in  \ 

these  respects  is,  that  the  one  speaks  only  of  his  luck,  | 

the  other  sees  the  hand  of  God  in  ordering  all  such  | 

things  for   his   benefit.     This   last  was    David's  case.  | 

Well  did  he  know  that  the  very  best  use  he  could  make         -      ' 
of  his  abilities  could  not   ensure  success  unless   God  j 

was  present  to  order  and  direct  to  a  prosperous  issue  j 

the   ten  thousand    incidental    influences    that    bore  on  I 

the  outcome  of  his  undertakings.     And  when  he  saw  | 

that  these  influences  were  all  directed  to  this  end,  that  ! 


76  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

nothing  went  wrong,  that  all  conspired  steadily  and 
harmoniously  to  the  enlargement  and  establishment  of 
his  kingdom,  he  perceived  that  the  Lord  was  with 
him,  and  was  now  visibly  fulfilling  to  him  that  great 
principle  of  His  government  which  He  had  so  solemnly 
declared  to  Eli,  ''  Them  that  honour  Me,  I  will  honour." 

But  is  thrs  way  of  claiming  to  be  specially  favoured 
and  blessed  by  God  not  objectionable  ?  Is  it  not  what 
the  world  calls  "  cant "  ?  Is  it  not  highly  offensive  in 
any  man  to  claim  to  be  a  favourite  of  Heaven  ?  Is  this 
not  what  hypocrites  and  fanatics  are  so  fond  of  doing, 
and  is  it  not  a  course  which  every  good,  humble- 
minded  man  will  be  careful  to  avoid  ? 

This  may  be  a  plausible  way  of  reasoning,  but  one 
thing  is  certain — it  has  not  the  support  of  Scripture. 
If  it  be  an  offence  publicly  to  recognise  the  special 
favour  and  blessing  with  which  it  has  pleased  God  to 
visit  us,  David  himself  was  the  greatest  offender  in  this 
respect  the  world  has  ever  known.  What  is  the  great 
burden  of  his  psalms  of  thanksgiving  ?  Is  it  not  an 
acknowledgment  of  the  special  mercies  and  favours  that 
God  bestowed  on  him,  especially  in  his  times  of 
great  necessity  ?  And  does  not  the  whole  tenor  of  the 
Psalms  and  the  whole  tenor  of  Scripture  prove  that 
good  men  are  to  take  especial  note  of  all  the  mercies 
they  receive  from  God,  and  are  not  to  confine  them  to 
their  own  bosom,  but  to  tell  of  all  His  gracious  acts 
and  bless  His  name  for  ever  and  ever?  ^'They  shall 
abundantly  utter  the  memory  of  Thy  great  goodness, 
and  shall  sing  of  Thy  righteousness."  That  God  is  to 
be  acknowledged  in  all  our  ways,  that  God's  mercy  in 
choosing  us  in  Christ  Jesus  and  blessing  us  with  all 
spiritual  blessings  in  Him  is  to  be  especially  recognized, 
and  that  we   are   not   to  shrink   from  extolling  God's 


V.  IO-25.]  THE  KINGDOM  ESTABLISHED,  77 

name  for  conferring  on  us  favours  infinitely  beyond  what 
belong  to  the  men  of  the  world,  are  among  the  plainest 
lessons  of  the  word  of  God. 

What  the  world  is  so  ready  to  believe  is,  that  this 
cannot  be  done  save  in  the  spirit  of  the  Pharisee  who 
thanked    God   that   he   was  not  as   other   men.      And 
whenever  a  worldly  man  falls  foul  of  one  who  owns  the 
distinguishing  spiritual  mercies  that  God  has  bestowed 
on  him,  it  is  this  accusation  he  is  sure  to  hurl  at  his 
head.     But   this  just  shows  the  recklessness  and  in- 
justice   of  the  world.     Strange  indeed  if  God  in  His 
word  has  imposed  on  us  a  duty  which  cannot  be  dis- 
charged but  in  company  with  those  who  say,  ''  Stand 
by  thyself ;  come  not  nigh;  I  am  holier  than  thou"! 
The  truth  is,   the  world  cannot  or  will  not  distinguish 
between  the  Pharisee,  puffed  up  with  the  conceit  of  his 
-goodness,  and  for  this  goodness  of  his  deeming  himself 
the  favourite  of  Heaven,  and  the  humble  saint,  conscious 
that  in  him  dwelleth  no  good  thing,  and  filled  with  ador- 
ing wonder  at  the  mercy  of  God  in  making  of  one  so 
unworthy  a  monument  of  His  grace.     The  one  is  as 
unlike  the  other  as  light  is  to  darkness.     What  good 
men  need  to  bear  in  mind  is,  that  when  they  do  make 
mention  of  the  special  goodness  of  God  to  them  they 
should  be  most  careful  to  do  so  in  no  boastful  mood, 
but  in  the  spirit  of  a  most  real,  and  not  an  assumed  or 
formal,  humility.     And  seeing  how  ready  the  world  is 
to  misunderstand  and  misrepresent  the  feeling,  and  to 
turn  into  a  reproach  what  is  done  as  a  most  sincere 
act  of  gratitude  to  God,  it  becomes  them  to  be  cautious 
how  they  introduce   such  topics   among  persons  who 
have  no  sympathy  with  their  view.     ''  Cast  not  your 
pearls  before  swine,"  said  our  Lord,   ^'  lest  they  turn 
again  and  rend  you."    *^  Come  near/'  said  the  Psalmist 


78  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

*'  and  hear,  a/lye  thai  fear  God,  and  I  will  declare  what 
He  hath  done  for  my  soul." 

Midway  between  the  two  statements  before  us  on 
the  greatness  and  prosperity  which  God  conferred  on 
David,  mention  is  made  of  his  friendly  relations  with 
the  king  of  Tyre  (ver.  1 1).  The  Phoenicians  were  not 
included  among  the  seven  nations  of  Palestine  whom 
the  Israelites  were  to  extirpate,  so  that  a  friendly 
alliance  with  them  was  not  forbidden.  It  appears  that 
Hiram  was  disposed  for  such  an  alliance,  and  David 
accepted  of  his  friendly  overtures.  There  is  something 
refreshing  in  this  peaceful  episode  in  a  history  and  in 
a  time  when  war  and  violence  seem  to  have  been  the 
normal  condition  of  the  intercourse  of  neighbouring 
nations.  Tyre  had  a  great  genius  for  commerce ;  and 
the  spirit  of  commerce  is  alien  from  the  spirit  of  war. 
That  it  is  always  a  nobler  spirit  cannot  be  said;  for 
while  commerce  ought  to  rest  on  the  idea  of  mutual 
benefit,  and  many  of  its  sons  honourably  fulfil  this 
condition,  it  often  degenerates  into  the  most  atrocious 
selfishness,  and  heeds  not  what  havoc  it  may  inflict  on 
others  provided  it  derives  personal  gain  from  its  under- 
takings. What  an  untold  amount  of  sin  and  misery 
has  been  wrought  by  the  opium  traffic,  as  well  as  by 
the  traffic  in  strong  drink,  when  pressed  by  cruel 
avarice  on  barbarous  nations  that  have  so  often  lost 
all  of  humanity  they  possessed  through  the  fire-water 
of  the  Christian  trader !  But  we  have  no  reason  to 
believe  that  there  was  anything  specially  hurtful  in 
the  traffic  which  Tyre  now  began  with  Israel,  although 
the  intercourse  of  the  two  countries  afterwards  led  to 
other  results  pernicious  to  the  latter — the  introduction 
of  Phoenician  idolatry  and  the  overthrow  of  pure 
worship  in    the  greater  part   of  the   tribes  of   Israel. 


V.  10-25.]  THE  KINGDOM  ESTABLISHED.  79 

Meanwhile  what  Hiram  does  is  to  send  to  David  cedar 
trees,  and  carpenters,  and  masons,  by  means  of  whom 
n  more  civilized  style  of  dwelling  is  introduced ;  and 
tlie  new  city  which  David  has  commenced  to  build,  and 
especially  the  house  which  is  to  be  his  own,  present 
features  of  skill  and  beauty  hitherto  unknown  in  Israel. 
For,  amid  all  his  zeal  for  higher  things,  the  young  king 
of  Israel  does  not  disdain  to  advance  his  kingdom  in 
material  comforts.  Of  these,  as  of  other  things  of  the 
kind,  he  knows  well  that  they  are  good  if  a  man  use 
them  lawfully ;  and  his  effort  is  at  once  to  promote  the 
welfare  of  the  kingdom  in  the  amenities  and  comforts 
of  life,  and  to  deepen  that  profound  regard  for  God 
and  that  exalted  estimate  of  His  favour  which  will  pre- 
vent His  people  from  relying  for  their  prosperity  on 
mere  outward  conditions,  and  encourage  them  ever  to 
place  their  confidence  in  their  heavenly  Protector  and 
King. 

We  pass  by,  as  not  requiring  more  comment  than  we 
have  already  bestowed  on  a  parallel  passage  (2  Sam.  iii. 
2-5),  the  unsavoury  statement  that  "David  took  to  him 
more  concubines  and  wives "  in  Jerusalem.  With  all 
his  light  and  grace,  he  had  not  overcome  the  prevalent 
notion  that   the   dignity   and   resources  of  a  kingdom  ^ 

were  to  be  measured  by  the  number  and  rank  of  the  % 

king's    wives.      The    moral    element   involved    in    the  | 

arrangement  he  does   not  seem  to  have  at  all  appre-  | 

hended ;    and    consequently,    amid    all    the    glory    and  | 

prosperity  that  God   has  given  him,  he   thoughtlessly  \ 

multiplies  the  evil  that  was  to  spread  havoc  and  desola-  | 

tion  in  his  house.  ! 

We  proceed,  therefore,  to  what  occupies  the  remainder  | 

of  this  chapter — the   narrative  of  his  wars    with    the  j 

PhiUstines.     Two  campaigns   against   these  inveterate  | 


8o  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

enemies  of  Israel  are  recorded,  and  the  decisive 
encounter  in  both  cases  took  place  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Jerusalem. 

The  narrative  is  so  brief  that  we  have  difficulty  in 
apprehending  all  the  circumstances.  The  first  invasion 
of  the  Phihstines  took  place  soon  after  David  was 
anointed  king  over  all  Israel.  It  is  not  said  whether 
this  occurred  before  David  possessed  himself  of  Mount 
Zion,  nor,  considering  the  structure  common  in  Hebrew 
narrative,  does  the  circumstance  that  in  the  history  it 
follows  that  event  prove  that  it  was  subsequent  to  it 
in  the  order  of  time.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  an 
expression  that  seems  hardly  consistent  with  this  idea. 
We  read  (ver.  17)  that  when  David  heard  of  the  invasion 
he  ^' went  down  into  the  hold."  Now,  this  expression 
could  not  be  used  of  the  stronghold  of  Zion,  for  that  hill 
is  on  the  height  of  the  central  plateau,  and  invariably 
the  Scriptures  speak  of  '^  going  up  to  Zion."  If  he  had 
possession  of  Mount  Zion,  he  would  surely  have  gone 
to  it  when  the  Philistines  took  possession  of  the  plain 
of  Rephaim.  The  hold  to  which  he  went  down  must 
have  been  in  a  lower  position ;  indeed,  '^  the  hold  "  is 
the  expression  used  of  the  place  or  places  of  protection 
to  which  David  resorted  when  he  was  pursued  by  Saul 
(see  I  Sam.  xxii.  4).  Further,  when  we  turn  to  the 
twenty-third  chapter  of  this  book,  which  records  some 
memorable  incidents  of  the  war  with  the  Philistines, 
we  find  (vers.  13,  14)  that  when  the  Philistines  pitched 
in  the  valley  of  Rephaim  David  was  in  a  hold  near 
the  cave  of  Adullam.  The  valley  of  Rephaim,  or  ''  the 
giants,"  is  an  extensive  plain  to  the  south-west  of 
Jerusalem,  forming  a  great  natural  entrance  to  the  city. 
When  we  duly  consider  the  import  of  these  facts,  we 
see  that  the  campaign  was  very  serious,  and  David's 


V.  10-25.]  THE  KINGDOM  ESTABLISHED.  8i 

difficulties  very  great.  The  Philistines  were  encamped 
in  force  on  the  summit  of  the  plateau  near  the  natural 
metropolis  of  the  country.  David  was  encamped  in  a 
hold  in  the  low  country  in  the  south-west,  making  use 
of  that  very  cave  of  Adullam  where  he  had  taken  refuge 
in  his  conflicts  with  Saul.  This  was  far  from  a  hopeful 
state  of  matters.  To  the  eye  of  man,  his  position  may 
have  appeared  very  desperate.  Such  an  emergency  was 
a  fit  time  for  a  solemn  application  to  God  for  direction. 
"  David  inquired  of  the  Lord,  saying,  Shall  I  go  up  to 
the  Philistines  ?  Wilt  Thou  deliver  them  into  mine 
hand  ?  And  the  Lord  said  unto  David,  Go  up,  for  I 
will  doubtless  deliver  the  Philistines  into  thine  hand." 
Up,  accordingly,  David  went,  attacked  the  Philistines 
and  smote  them  at  a  place  called  Baal-perazim,  some- 
where most  likely  between  Adullam  and  Jerusalem. 
The  expression  '^  The  Lord  hath  broken  forth  on  mine 
enemies  before  me,  as  the  breach  of  waters,"  seems  to 
imply  that  He  broke  the  Philistine  host  into  two,  like 
flooded  water  breaking  an  embankment,  preventing 
them  from  uniting  and  rallying,  and  sending  them  in 
two  detachments  into  flight  and  confusion.  Considering 
the  superior  position  of  the  Philistines,  and  the  great 
advantage  they  seem  to  have  had  over  David  in 
numbers  also,  this  was  a  signal  victory,  even  though 
it  did  not  reduce  the  foe  to  helplessness. 

For  when  the  Philistines  had  got  time  to  recover, 
they  again  came  up,  pitched  again  in  the  plain  of 
Rephaim,  and  appeared  to  render  unavailing  the  signal  i 

achievement  of  David  at  Baal-perazim.  Again  David 
inquired  what  he  should  do.  The  reply  was  somewhat 
different  from  before.  David  was  not  to  go  straight  up 
to  face  the  enemy,  as  he  had  done  before.  He  was  to 
*'  fetch  a  compass  behind  them,"  that  is,  as  we  under-  | 

VOL.    II.  6  t 


82  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

Stand  it,  to  make  a  circuit,  so  as  to  get  in  the  enemy's 
rear  over  against  a  grove  of  mulberry  trees.  That  tree 
has  not  yet  disappeared  from  the  neighbourhood  of 
Jerusalem ;  a  mulberry  tree  still  marks  the  spot  in  the 
valley  of  Jehoshaphat  where,  according  to  tradition, 
Isaiah  was  sawn  asunder  (Stanley's  "  Sinai  and  Pales- 
tine"). When  he  should  hear  '^  the  sound  of  a  going  " 
(Revised  Version,  ''  the  sound  of  a  march  ")  in  the  tops 
of  the  mulberry  trees,  then  he  was  to  bestir  himself.  It 
is  difficult  to  conceive  any  natural  cause  that  should 
give  rise  to  a  sound  like  that  of  a  march  "in  the  tops 
of  the  mulberry  trees;"  but  if  not  a  natural,  it  must 
have  been  a  supernatural  indication  of  some  sound  that 
would  alarm  the  Philistines  and  make  the  moment 
favourable  for  an  attack.  It  is  probable  that  the 
presence  of  David  and  his  troop  in  the  rear  of  the 
Philistines  was  not  suspected,  the  mulberry  trees 
forming  a  screen  between  them.  When  David  got  his 
opportunity,  he  availed  himself  of  it  to  great  advantage; 
he  inflicted  a  thorough  defeat  on  the  Phihstines,  and 
smiting  them  from  Geba  to  Gazer,  he  appears  to  have 
all  but  annihilated  their  force.  In  this  way,  he  gave 
the  coup  de  grace  to  his  former  allies. 

We  have  said  that  it  appears  to  have  been  during 
these  campaigns  against  the  Phihstines  that  the  inci- 
dents took  place  which  are  recorded  fully  in  the  twenty- 
third  chapter  of  this  book.  It  does  not  seem  possible 
that  these  incidents  occurred  at  or  about  the  time  when 
David  was  flying  from  Saul,  at  which  time  the  cave  oi 
Adullam  was  one  of  his  resorts.  Neither  is  it  likely 
that  they  occurred  during  the  early  years  of  David's 
reign,  while  he  was  yet  at  strife  with  the  house  of  Saul. 
At  least,  it  is  more  natural  to  refer  them  to  the  time 
when    the    Philistines,  having  heard   that    David    had 


V.  IO-25.]  THE   KINGDCM  ESTABLISHED. 


been  anointed  king  over  Israel,  came  up  to  seek  David, 

although    we  do   not  consider  it  impossible  that  they 

occurred  in  the  earlier  period  of  his  reign.     The  record 

shows  how  wonderfully  the  spirit  of  David  had  passed 

into  his  men,  and  what  splendid  deeds  of  courage  were 

performed    by    them,  often  in  the  face  of  tremendous 

odds.     We  get  a  fine  glimpse  here  of  one  of  the  great 

sources     of     David's     popularity — his     extraordinary 

pluck    as    we    now    call    it,     and    readiness    for    the 

most    daring   adventures,    often    crowned  with  all  but 

miraculous  success.     In  all  ages,  men  of  this  type  have 

been  marvellous  favourites  with  their  comrades.     The 

annals  of  the  British  army,  and  still  more  the  British 

navy,  contain  many  such  records.     And  even  when  we 

go  down  to  pirates  and  freebooters,  we  find  the  odium  of 

their  mode  of  life  in  many  cases  remarkably  softened  \ 

by  the    splendour   of  their   valour,   by  their    running  [ 

unheard-of  risks,  and  sometimes  by  sheer  daring  and  [ 

bravery  obtaining  signal  advantages  over  the  greatest  | 

odds.     The  achievements  of  David's  ''  three  mighties,"  i 

as  well  as  of  his  ''  thirty,"  formed  a  splendid  instance  of  | 

this  kind  of  warfare.      All  that  we  know  of  them  is 

comprised  within  a  few  lines,  but  when  we  call  to  mind 

the  enthusiasm  that  used  to  be  awakened  all  over  our  \ 

own  country  by  the  achievements  of  Nelson  and  his  | 

officers,  or  more  recently  by  General  Gordon,  of  China  | 

and  Egypt,  we  can  easily  understand  the  thrilling  effect  f 

which    these    wonderful    tales    of  valour   would    have  f 

throughout  all  the  tribes  of  Israel. 

The  personal  affection  for  David  and  his  heroes 
which  would  thus  be  formed  must  have  been  very 
warm,  nay,  even  enthusiastic.  In  the  case  of  David, 
whatever  may  have  been  true  of  the  others,  all 
the  influence    thus    acquired    was    employed    for    the 


84  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

welfare  of  the  nation  and  the  glory  of  God.  The 
supreme  desire  of  his  heart  was  that  the  p  "ople  might 
give  all  the  glory  to  Jehovah,  and  derive  from  these 
brilliant  successes  fresh  assurances  how  fnilhful  God 
was  to  His  promises  to  Israel.  Alike  as  a  rr  an  of  piety 
and  a  man  of  patriotism,  he  made  this  his  aim. 
Knowing  as  he  did  what  was  due  to  God,  and  animated 
by  a  profound  desire  to  render  to  God  His  due,  he 
would  have  been  horrified  had  he  intercepted  in  his 
own  person  aught  of  the  honour  and  glory  which  were 
His.  But  for  the  people's  sake  also,  as  a  man  of 
patriotism,  his  desire  was  equally  strong  that  God 
should  have  all  the  glory.  What  were  military  suc- 
cesses however  brilliant  to  the  nation,  or  a  reputation 
however  eminent,  compared  to  their  enjoying  the  favour 
and  friendship  of  God  ?  Success — how  ephemeral  it 
was ;  reputation — as  transient  as  the  glow  of  a  cloud 
beside  the  setting  sun ;  but  God's  favour  and  gracious 
presence  with  the  nation  was  a  perpetual  treasure, 
enlivening,  healing,  strengthening,  guiding  for  ever- 
more. *'  Happy  is  that  people  that  is  in  such  a  case ; 
yea,  happy  is  that  people  whose  God  is  the  Lord." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  ARK  BROUGHT  UP   TO  JERUSALEM, 
2  Sam  uel  vi. 

THE  first  care  of  David  when  settled  on  the  throne 
had  been  to  obtain  possession  of  the  stronghold 
of  Zion,  on  which  and  on  the  city  which  was  to  sur- 
round it  he  fixed  as  the  capital  of  the  kingdom  and  the 
dwelling-place  of  the  God  of  Israel,  This  being  done, 
he  next  set  about  bringing  up  the  ark  of  the  testimony 
from  Kirjath-jearim,  where  it  had  been  left  after  being 
restored  by  the  Philistines  in  the  early  days  of  Samuel. 
David's  first  attempt  to  place  the  ark  on  Mount  Zion 
failed  through  want  of  due  reverence  on  the  part  of 
those  who  were  transporting  it ;  but  after  an  interval  of 
three  months  the  attempt  was  renewed,  and  the  sacred 
symbol  was  duly  installed  on  Mount  Zion,  in  the  midst 
of  the  tabernacle  prepared  by  David  for  its  reception. 

In  bringing  up  the  ark  to  Jerusalem,  the  king  showed 
a  commendable  desire  to  interest  the  whole  nation,  as 
far  as  possible,  in  the  solemn  service.  He  gathered 
together  the  chosen  men  of  Israel,  thirty  thousand,  and 
went  with  them  to  bring  up  the  ark  from  Baale  of 
Judah,  which  must  be  another  name  for  Kirjath-jearim, 
distant  from  Jerusalem  about  ten  miles./  The  people, 
numerous  as  they  were,  grudged  neither  the  time,  the 
trouble,  nor  the  expense.    A  handful  might  have  sufficed 


S6  THE  SECOXD  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  \ 

for  all  the  actual  labour  that  was  required ;  but  thou-  i 

sands  of  the  chief  people  were  summoned  to  be  present,  \ 

and  that  on  the  principle  both  of  rendering  due  honour  § 

to  God,  and  of  conferring  a  benefit  on  the  people.     It  J 

is   not  a  handful  of  professional  men  only  that  should  \ 

be    called  to  take  a  part    in    the   service   of  religion  ;  .^ 

Christian   people  generally  should  have  an  interest  in  1 

the  ark  of  God  ;  and   other  things    being  equal,    that  \ 

Church  which  interests  the  greatest  number  of  people  \ 

and  attracts  them  to  active  work  will  not  only  do  most  | 

for  advancing  God's  kingdom,  but  will  enjoy  most  of  \ 

inward  life  and  prosperity.  I 

The  joyful  spirit  in  which  this  service  was  performed 

by  David  and  his  people  is  another  interesting  feature  j 

of  the  transaction.     Evidently  it  was  not  looked  on  as  ■; 
a  toilsome  service,  but  as  a  blessed  festival,  adapted  to 
cheer  the  heart  and  raise  the  spirits.     What  was  the 
precise  nature  of  the  service  ?    It  was  to  bring  into  the 

heart  of  the  nation,  into  the  new  capital  of  the  kingdom,  A 

the  ark  of  the  covenant,  that  piece  of  sacred  furniture  | 
which  had  been  constructed  nearly  five  hundred  years 

before  in  the  wilderness  of  Sinai,  the  memorial  of  God's  i 

holy  covenant  with  the  people,  and  the  symbol  of  His  j 

gracious  presence  among  them.     In  spirit  it  was  bring-  ■ 

ing  God  into  the  very  midst  of  the  nation,  and  on  the  1 

choicest  and  most  prominent  pedestal  the  country  now  ''\ 

supplied  setting  up  a  constant  memento  of  the  presence  ; 
of  the    Holy   One.      Rightly  understood,    the   service 

could  bring  joy  only  to  spiritual  hearts ;   it  could  give  | 

pleasure  to  none  who  had  reason  to  dread  the  presence  j 
of  God.  To  those  who  knew  Him  as  their  reconciled  ^  j 
Father  and   the  covenant   God    of  the  nation,  it  was 

most  attractive.  It  was  as  if  the  sun  were  again  shining  | 
on  them  after  a  long  eclipse,  or  as  if  the  father  of  a 


vi.]        THE  ARK  BROUGHT  UP  TO  JERUSALEM.         87 


loved   and   loving  family  had  returned    after  a  v^eary  ! 

absence.     God    enthroned  on  Zion,  God  in  the  midst  i 

of  Jerusalem — what  happier  or  more  thriUing  thought  \ 

was  it  possible  to  cherish  ?     God,  the  sun  and  shield  \ 

of  the  nation,  occupying  for  His  residence  the  one  fitting  \ 

place  in  all  the  land,  and  sending  over  Jerusalem  and  5 

over  all  the  country  emanations  of  love  and  grace,  full 
of  blessing  for  all  that  feared  His  name  !  The  happi- 
ness with  which  this  service  was  entered  on  by  David 
and  his  people  is  surely  the  type  of  the  spirit  in  which 
all  service  to  God  should  be  rendered  by  those  whose 
sins  He  has  blotted  out,  and  on  whom  He  has  bestowed 
the  privileges  of  His  children. 

But  the  best  of  services  may  be  gone  about  in  a 
faulty  way.  There  may  be  some  criminal  neglect 
of  God's  will  that,  like  the  dead  fly  in  the  apothecary's 
pot  of  ointment,  causes  the  perfume  to  send  forth  a 
stinking  savour.  And  so  it  was  on  this  occasion. 
God  had  expressly  directed  that  when  the  ark  was 
moved  from  place  to  place  it  should  be  borne  on  poles 
on  the  shoulders  of  the  Levites,  and  never  carried  in  a  j 

cart,    like   a  common  piece  of  furniture.     But  in   the  [ 

removal  of  the  ark  from  Kirjath-jearim,  this  direction  [ 

was   entirely   overlooked.      Instead   of    following   the  \ 

directions  given  to  Moses,  the  example  of  the  Philis-  \ 

tines    was    copied    when    they   sent   the   ark    back    to  | 

Bethshemesh.     The  Philistines  had  placed  it  in  a  new  | 

cart,  and  the  men  of  Israel  now  did  the  same.  What 
-induced  them  to  follow  the  example  of  the  Philistines 
rather  than  the  directions  of  Moses,  we  do  not  know, 
and  can  hardly  conjecture.  It  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  a  mere  oversight.  It  had  something  of  a 
deliberate  plan  about  it,  as  if  the  law  given  in  the 
wilderness   were   now    obsolete,    and    in    so    small    a 


88  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

matter  any  method  might  be  chosen  that  the  people 
hked.  It  was  substituting  a  heathen  example  for 
a  Divine  rule  in  the  worship  of  God.  We  cannot 
suppose  that  David  was  guiUy  of  deliberately  setting 
aside  the  authority  of  God.  On  his  part,  it  may  have 
been  an  error  of  inadvertence.  But  that  somewhere 
there  was  a  serious  offence  is  evident  from  the 
punishment  with  which  it  was  visited  (i  Chron.  xv.  13). 
The  jagged  bridlepaths  of  those  parts  are  not  at 
all  adapted  for  wheeled  conveyances,  and  when  the 
oxen  stumbled,  and  the  ark  was  shaken,  Uzzah,  who 
was  driving  the  cart,  put  forth  his  hand  to  steady  it. 
"The  anger  of  God,"  we  are  told,  "was  kindled  against 
Uzzah ;  and  God  smote  him  there  for  his  error ;  and 
there  he  died  by  the  ark  of  God."  His  effort  to  steady 
the  ark  must  have  been  made  in  a  presumptuous  way, 
without  reverence  for  the  sacred  vessel.  Only  a  Levite 
was  authorized  to  touch  it,  and  Uzzah  was  apparently 
a  man  of"  Judah.  The  punishment  may  seem  to  us 
hard  for  an  offence  which  was  ceremonial  rather  than 
moral ;  but  in  that  economy,  moral  truth  was  taught 
through  ceremonial  observances,  and  neglect  of  the  one 
was  treated  as  involving  neglect  of  the  other.  The 
punishment  was  like  the  punishment  of  Nadab  and 
Abihu,  the  sons  of  Aaron,  for  offering  strange  fire 
in  their  censers.  It  may  be  that  both  in  their  case,  and 
in  the  case  of  Uzzah,  there  were  unrecorded  circum- 
stances, unknown  to  us,  making  it  clear  that  the 
ceremonial  offence  was  not  a  mere  accident,  but  that 
it  was  associated  with  evil  personal  qualities  well 
fitted  to  provoke  the  judgment  of  God.  \The  great 
lesson  for  all  time  is  to  beware  of  following  our  own 
devices  in  the  worship  of  God  when  we  have  clear 
instructions  in  His  word  how  we  are  to  worship  Him^j 


vi.]         THE  ARK  BROUGHT  UP    TO  JERUSALEM.  89 

This  lamentable  event  put  a  sudden  end  to  the  joyful 
service.  It  was  Hke  the  bursting  of  a  thunderstorm  on 
an  excursion  party  that  rapidly  sends  every  one  to 
flight.  And  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  spirit  shown  by 
David  was  altogether  right.  He  was  displeased 
"  because  the  Lord  had  made  a  breach  upon  Uzzah, 
and  he  called  the  name  of  the  place  Perez-uzzah  to 
this  day.  And  David  was  afraid  of  the  Lord  that  day 
and  said,  How  shall  the  ark  of  the  Lord  come  to  me  ? 
So  David  would  not  remove  the  ark  of  the  Lord  into 
the  city  of  David ;  but  David  carried  it  aside  into  the 
house  of  Obed-edom  the  Gittite."  The  narrative  reads 
as  if  David  resented  the  judgment  which  God  had 
inflicted,  and  in  a  somewhat  petulant  spirit  abandoned 
the  enterprise  because  he  found  God  too  hard  to 
please.  That  some  such  feeling  should  have  fluttered 
about  his  heart  was  not  to  be  wondered  at ;  but  surely 
it  was  a  feeling  to  which  he  ought  not  to  have  given 
entertainment,  as  it  certainly  was  one  on  which  he 
ought  not  to  have  acted.  If  God  was  offended,  David 
surely  knew  that  He  must  have  had  good  ground  for 
being  so.  It  became  him  and  the  people,  therefore,  to 
accept  God's  judgment,  humble  themselves  before  Him, 
and  seek  forgiveness  for  the  negligent  manner  in  which 
they  had  addressed  themselves  to  this  very  solemn 
service.  Instead  of  this  David  throws  up  the  matter 
in  a  fit  of  sullen  temper,  as  if  it  were  impossible  to 
please  God  in  it,  and  the  enterprise  must  there- 
fore be  abandoned.  He  leaves  the  ark  in  the  house 
of  Obed-edom  the  Gittite,  returning  to  Jerusalem 
crestfallen  and  displeased,  altogether  in  a  spirit  most 
opposite  to  that  in  which  he  had  set  out. 

It  may  happen  to  you  that  some  Christian  under- 
taking on  which  you  have  entered  with  great  zeal  and 


90  THE  SECOND  BOOK    OE  SAMUEL. 

ardour,  and  without  any  surmise  that  you  are  not 
doing  right,  is  not  blessed,  but  meets  with  some  rough 
shock,  that  places  you  in  a  very  painful  position.  In 
the  most  disinterested  spirit,  you  have  tried  perhaps, 
to  set  up  in  some  neglected  district  a  school  or  a 
mission,  and  you  expect  all  encouragement  and  appro- 
bation from  those  who  are  most  interested  in  the 
welfare  of  the  district.  Instead  of  receiving  approval, 
you  find  that  you  are  regarded  as  an  enemy  and  an 
intruder.  You  are  attacked  with  unexampled  rudeness, 
sinister  aims  are  laid  to  your  charge,  and  the  pur- 
pose of  your  undertaking  is  declared  to  be  to  hurt 
and  discourage  those  whom  you  were  bound  to  aid. 
The  shock  is  so  violent  and  so  rude  that  for  a  time 
you  cannot  understand  it.  On  the  part  of  man  it  admits 
of  no  reasonable  justification  whatever.  But  when 
you  go  into  your  closet,  and  think  of  the  matter  as 
permitted  by  God,  you  wonder  still  more  why  God 
should  thwart  you  in  your  endeavour  to  do  good. 
Rebellious  feelings  hover  about  your  heart  that  if  God 
is  to  treat  you  in  this  way,  it  were  better  to  abandon 
His  service  altogether.  But  surely  no  such  feeling 
is  ever  to  find  a  settled  place  in  your  heart.  You  may 
be  sure  that  the  rebuff  which  God  has  permitted  you  to 
encounter  is  meant  as  a  trial  of  your  faith  and  humility ; 
and  if  you  wait  on  God  for  further  light  and  humbly 
ask  a  true  view  of  God's  will ;  if,  above  all,  you 
beware  of  retiring  in  sullen  silence  from  God's  active 
service,  good  may  come  out  of  the  apparent  evil,  and 
you  may  yet  find  cause  to  bless  God  even  for  the 
shock  that  made  you  so  uncomfortable  at  the  time. 

The  Lord  does  not  forsake  His  people,  nor  leave 
them  for  ever  under  a  cloud.  It  was  not  long  before 
the  downcast  heart  of  David  was  reassured.     When 


vi.]         THE  ARK  BROUGHT  UP   TO  JERUSALEM.  91 

the  ark  had  been  left  at  the  house  of  Obed-edom,  Obed- 

edom   was   not  afraid   to  take  it  in.     Its  presence  in 

other  places  had  hitherto  been  the  signal  for  disaster 

and  death.     Among  the  Philistines,  in  city  after  city, 

0^    Bethshemesh,    and    now    at    Perez-uzzah,    it   had 

spread    death   on    every    side.     Obed-edom    was    no 

sufferer.     Probably  he  was  a  God-fearing  man,  conscious 

of  no  purpose  but  that  of  honouring  God.     A  manifest 

blessing  rested  on  his  house.     ''The  God  of  heaven," 

says   Bishop   Hall,    ''pays   liberally  for  His  lodging." 

It  is  not  so  much  God's  ark  in  our  time  and  country 

that  needs  a  lodging,   but  God's  servants,  God's  poor,  ! 

sometimes  persecuted  fugitives  flying  from  an  oppressor,  [ 

very   often  pious  men   in    oreign    countries  labouring  \ 

under    infinite   discouragements    to   serve   God.     The  \ 

Obed-edom  who  takes  them  in  will  not  suffer.     Even  • 

should  he  be  put  to  loss  or  inconvenience,  the  day  of 

recompense  draweth  nigh.     "  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye 

took  Me  in." 

Again,  then,  King  David,  encouraged  by  the  expe- 
rience of  Obed-edom,  goes  forth  in  royal  state  to  bring 
up  the  ark  to  Jerusalem.     The  error  that  had  proved  | 

so  fatal  was  now  rectified.     "  David  said.  None  ought  I 

to  carry  the  ark   of  God   but  the    Levites,    for   them  I 

hath  the  Lord  chosen  to  carry  the  ark  of  God  and  to  | 

minister  unto   Him   for   ever "  (i   Chron.   xv.  2).     In  | 

token   of  his   humility  and   his  conviction    that   every  | 

Service  that  man  renders  to  God  is  tainted  and  needs  \ 

forgiveness,  oxen  and  fathngs  were  sacrificed  ere  the  f 

bearers   of  the    ark    had   well    begun    to  move.     The  j 

spirit  of  enthusiastic  joy  again  swayed  the  multitude, 
brightened  probably  by  the  assurance  that  no  judgment  j 

need  now  be  dreaded,  but  that  they  might  confidently  I 

look  for  the  smile  of  an  approving  God.     The  feelings  ! 


92  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

of  the  king  himself  were  wonderfully  wrought  up,  and' 
he  gave  free  expression  to  the  joy  of  his  heart.     There ' 
are  occasions  of  great   rejoicing    when    all    ceremony, 
is  forgotten,  and  no  forms  or  appearances  are  suffered; 
to  stem  the  tide  of  enthusiasm  as  it  gushes  right  from 
the  heart.     It  was  an  occasion  of  this  kind  to  David.  , 
The  check  he  had  sustained  three  months  before  had 
only  dammed  up  his  feelings,  and  they  rolled  out  now 
with  all  the  greater  volume.     His  soul  was  stirred  by 
the   thought   that   the  symbol   of  Godhead   was   now 
to  be  placed  in  his  own  city,  close  to  his  own  dwelling ; 
that  it  was  to  find  an  abiding  place  of  rest  in  the  heart  ! 
of  the   kingdom,   on    the    heights  where    Melchizedek,' 
had  reigned,  close  to  where  he  had  blessed  Abraham, 
and  which  God  had  destined  as  His  own  dwelling  from 
the    foundations    of    the    world.     Glorious    memories 
of  the  past,  minghng  with  bright  anticipations  of  the 
future,    recollections    of    the    grace   revealed    to    the 
fathers,  and  visions  of  the  same  grace  streaming  forth 
to  distant  ages,  as  generation  after  generation  of  the 
faithful  came  up  here  to  attend  the  holy  festivals,  might ; 
well  excite  that  tumult   of  emotion   in   David's  breast 
before  which  the  ordinary  restraints  of  royalty  were 
utterly  flung  aside.     He  sacrificed,  he  played,  he  sang, 
he   leapt  and    danced    before   the    Lord,    with  all    his  ; 
might;    he  made  a   display  of  enthusiasm   which   the. 
cold-hearted  Michal,    as   she  could   not   understand  it  \ 
nor  sympathise  with  it,   had  the  folly  to  despise  and 
the  cruelty  to   ridicule.     The  ordinary  temper  of   the 
sexes    was   reversed — the    man  was  enthusiastic  ;   the 
woman  was  cold.     Little  did  she  know  of  the  springs 
of  true   enthusiasm  in  the  service  of  God !     1  o   her 
faithless   eye,   the  ark   was    little    more    than    a    chest 
of  gold,  and    where    it   was    kept  was    of  little    con-  , 


vi.]         THE  ARK  BROUGHT  UP   TO  JERUSALEM.  93 

sequence ;  her  carnal  heart  could  not  appreciate  the 
glory  that  excelleth ;  her  bUnd  eye  could  see  none 
o{  the  visions  that  had  overpowered  the  soul  of 
her  husband. 

A  few  other  circumstances  are  briefly  noticed  in 
connection  with  the  close  of  the  service,  when  the  ark 
had  been  solemnly  enshrined  within  the  tabernacle 
that  David  had  reared  for  it  on  Mount  Zion. 

The  first  is  that  "  David  offered  burnt-offerings  and 
peace-offerings  before  the  Lord."  The  burnt-offering 
was  a  fresh  memorial  of  sin,  and  therefore  a  fresh 
confession  that  even  in  connection  with  that  very  holy 
service  there  were  sins  to  be  confessed,  atoned  for,  and 
forgiven.  For  there  is  this  great  difference  between 
the  service  of  the  formalist  and  the  service  of  the 
earnest  worshipper  :  that  while  the  one  can  see  nothing 
taulty  in  his  performance,  the  other  sees  a  multitude  of 
imperfections  in  his.  Clearer  light  and  a  clearer  eye, 
even  the  light  thrown  by  the  glory  of  God's  purity  on 
the  best  works  of  man,  reveal  a  host  of  blemishes, 
unseen  in  ordinary  light  and  by  the  carnal  eye.  Our 
very  prayers  need  to  be  purged,  our  tears  to  be  wept 
over,  our  repentances  repented  of  Little  could  the 
best  services  ever  done  by  him  avail  the  spiritual 
worshipper  if  it  were  not  for  the  High-priest  over  the 
house  of  God  who  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for 
him. 

Again,  we  find  David  after  the  offering  of  the  burnt- 
offerings  and  the  peace-offerings  "'  blessing  the  people  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord  of  hosts."  This  was  something 
more  than  merely  expressing  a  wish  or  offering  a 
prayer  for  their  welfare.  It  was  like  the  benediction 
with  which  we  close  our  public  services.  The 
benediction  is  more  than  a  prayer.     The  servant  of  the 


94  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

Lord  appears  in  the  attitude  of  dropping  on  the  heads 
of  the  people  the  blessing  which  he  invokes.  Not  that  he 
or  any  man  can  convey  heavenly  blessings  to  a  peop^. 
that  do  not  by  faith  appropriate  them  and  rejoice  I'n 
them.  But  the  act  of  benediction  implies  this  :  These 
blessings  are  yours  if  you  will  only  have  them.  They 
are  provided,  they  are  made  over  to  you,  if  you  will 
only  accept  them.  The  last  act  of  public  worship  is  a 
great  encouragement  to  faith.  When  the  peace  of  God 
that  passeth  all  understanding,  or  the  blessing  of  God 
the  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  or  the  grace  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love  of  God,  and  the 
communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost  are  invoked  over  your 
heads,  it  is  to  assure  you  that  if  you  will  but  accept  of 
them  through  Jesus  Christ,  these  great  blessings  are 
actually  yours.  True,  there  is  no  part  of  our  service 
more  frequently  spoiled  by  formality ;  but  there  is  none 
richer  with  true  blessing  to  faith.  So  when  David 
blessed  the  people,  it  was  an  assurance  to  them  that 
God's  blessing  was  within  their  reach  ;  it  was  theirs  if 
they  would  only  take  it.  How  strange  that  any  hearts 
should  be  callous  under  such  an  announcement ;  that 
any  should  fail  to  leap  to  it,  as  it  were,  and  rejoice 
in  it,  as  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  ! 

The  third  thing  David  did  was  to  deal  to  every  one  of 
Israel,  both  man  and  woman,  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  a 
good  piece  of  flesh,  and  a  flagon  of  wine.  It  was  a 
characteristic  act,  worthy  of  a  bountiful  and  generous 
nature  like  David's.  It  may  be  that  associating  bodily 
gratifications  with  Divine  service  is  liable  to  abuse, 
that  the  taste  which  it  gratifies  is  not  a  high  one,  and 
that  it  tempts  some  men  to  attend  religious  services  for 
the  same  reason  as  some  followed  Jesus — for  the  loaves 
and  fishes.     Yet  Jesus  did  not  abstain  on  some  rare 


vi.]         THE  ARK   BROUGHT  UP   TO  JERUSALEM.  95 

occasions  from  feeding  the  multitude,  though  the  act 
was  Hable  to  abuse.  The  example  both  of  David  and 
c^-f  Jesus  may  show  us  that  though  not  habitually,  yet 
occasionally,  it  is  both  right  and  fitting  that  religious 
service  should  be  associated  with  a  simple  repast. 
There  is  nothing  in  Scripture  to  warrant  the  practice, 
adopted  in  some  missions  in  very  poor  districts,  of 
feeding  the  people  habitually  when  they  come  up  for 
religious  service,  and  there  is  much  in  the  argument 
that  such  a  practice  degrades  religion  and  obscures  the 
glory  of  the  blessings  which  Divine  service  is  designed 
to  bring  to  the  poor.  But  occasionally  the  rigid  rule 
may  be  somewhat  relaxed,  and  thus  a  sort  of  symbolical 
proof  afforded  that  godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things, 
having  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is  and  of  that  which  I 

is  to  come.  \ 

The  last  thing  recorded  of  David  is,  that  he  returned  | 

to  bless  his  house.  The  cares  of  the  State  and  the 
public  duties  of  the  day  were  not  allowed  to  interfere 
with  his  domestic  duty.     Whatever  may  have  been  his  | 

ordinary   practice,   on  this    occasion   at  least   he   was  j 

specially  concerned  for  his  household,  and  desirous  that 
in  a  special  sense  they  should  share  the  blessing.     It  ; 

is  plain  from  this  that,  amid  all  the  imperfections  of  his  \ 

motley  household,  he  could  not  allow  his  children  to  ■ 

grow  up  ignorant  of  God,  thus  dealing  a  rebuke  to  all  | 

who,  outdoing  the  very  heathen  in  heathenism,   have  | 

houses  without  an  altar  and  without  a  God.  It  is 
painful  to  find   that   the  spirit    of  the    king   was   not  ; 

shared  by  every  member  of  his  family.  It  was  when 
he  was  returning  to  this  duty  that  Michal  met  him  and 
addressed  to  him  these  insulting  words :  ''  How 
glorious  was  the  king  of  Israel  to-day,  who  uncovered 
himself  to-day  in  the  eyes   of  the  handmaids   of  his 


96  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

servants,  as  one  of  the  vain  fellows  shamefully  uncovers 
himself."  On  the  mind  of  David  himself,  this  ebul- 
lition had  no  effect  but  to  confirm  him  in  his  feeling  I 
and  reiterate  his  conviction  that  his  enthusiasm  reflected  , 
on  him  not  shame  but  glory.  But  a  v^oman  of  Michal's 
character  could  not  but  act  like  an  icicle  on  the  spiritual 
life  of  the  household.  She  belonged  to  a  class  that 
cannot  tolerate  enthusiasm  in  religion.  In  any  other 
cause,  enthusiasm  may  be  excused,  perhaps  extolled  and 
admired  :  in  the  painter,  the  musician,  the  traveller,  even 
the  child  of  pleasure ;  the  only  persons  whose  enthu- 
siasm is  unbearable  are  those  who  are  enthusiastic  in 
their  regard  for  their  Saviour,  and  in  the  answer  they 
give  to  the  question,  "What  shall  I  render  to  the  Lord 
for  all  His  benefits  toward  me  ?  "  There  are,  doubtless, 
times  to  be  calm,  and  times  to  be  enthusiastic ;  but  can 
it  be  right  to  give  all  our  coldness  to  Christ  and  all 
our  enthusiasm  to  the  world  ? 


CHAPTER   IX. 

PROPOSAL    TO  BUILD  A    TEMPLE, 
2  Samuel  vii. 

THE  spirit  of  David  was  essentially  active  and  fond 
of  work.  He  was  one  of  those  who  are  ever 
pressing  on,  not  content  to  keep  things  as  they  are, 
moving  personally  towards  improvement,  and  urging 
others  to  do  the  same.  Even  in  Eastern  countries,  with 
their  proverbial  stillness  and  conservatism,  such  men 
are  sometimes  found,  but  they  are  far  more  common 
elsewhere.  Great  undertakings  do  not  frighten  them  ; 
they  have  spirit  enough  for  a  lifetime  of  effort,  they 
never  seem  weary  of  pushing  on.  When  they  look  on 
the  disorders  of  the  world  they  are  not  content  with 
the  languid  utterance,  ''  Something  must  be  done ;  " 
they  consider  what  it  is  possible  for  them  to  do,  and 
gird  themselves  to  the  doing  of  it. 

For  some  time  David  seems  to  have  found  ample 
scope  for  his  active  energies  in  subduing  the  Philistines 
and  other  hostile  tribes  that  were  yet  mingled  with  the 
Israelites,  and  that  had  long  given  them  much  annoy- 
ance. His  friendship  with  Hiram  of  Tyre  probably 
gave  a  new  impulse  to  his  mind,  and  led  him  to 
project  many  improvements  in  Jerusalem  and  elsewhere. 
When  all  his  enemies  were  quieted,  and  he  sat  in  ■  his 
house,  he  began  to  consider  to  what  work  of  internal 

VOL.    II.  7 


98  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

improveTnent  he  would  now  give  his  attention.  Having 
recently  removed  the  Ark,  and  placed  it  in  a  tabernacle 
on  Mount  Zion,  constructed  probably  in  accordance  witi 
the  instructions  given  to  Moses  in  the  wilderness,  h' 
did  not  at  first  contemplate  the  erection  of  any  other 
kind  of  building  for  the  service  of  God.  It  was  while 
he  sat  in  his  new  and  elegant  house  that  the  idea  came 
into  his  mind  that  it  was  not  seemly  that  he  should  be 
lodged  in  so  substantial  a  home,  while  the  Ark  of  God 
dwelt  between  curtains.  Curtains  might  have  been 
suitable,  nay,  necessary,  in  the  wilderness,  where  the 
Ark  had  constantly  to  be  moved  about ;  and  even  in 
the  land  of  Israel,  while  the  nation  was  comparatively 
unsettled,  curtains  might  still  have  been  best ;  but  now 
that  a  permanent  resting-place  had  been  found  for  the 
Ark,  was  it  right  that  there  should  be  such  a  contrast 
between  the  dwelling-place  of  David  and  the  dwelling- 
place  of  God  ?  It  was  the  very  argument  that  was 
afterwards  used  by  Haggai  and  Zechariah  after  the 
return  from  captivity,  to  rouse  the  languid  zeal  of  their 
countrymen  for  the  re-erection  of  the  house  of  God. 
"  Is  it  time  for  you,  O  ye,  to  dwell  in  your  ceiled  houses 
and  this  house  lie  waste  ?  " 

A  generous  heart,  even  though  it  be  a  godless  one, 
is  uncomfortable  when  surrounded  by  elegance  and 
luxury,  while  starvation  and  misery  prevail  in  its 
neighbourhood.  We  see  in  our  day  the  working  of 
this  feeling  in  those  cases,  unhappily  too  few,  where 
men  and  women  born  to  gold  and  grandeur  feel 
wretched  unless  they  are  doing  something  to  equalise 
the  conditions  of  life  by  helping  those  who  are  born 
to  rags  and  wretchedness.  To  the  feelings  of  the  godly 
a  disreputable  place  of  worship,  contrasting  meanly 
with  the  taste  and  elegance  of  the  hall,  or   even  the 


vii.]  PROPOSAL    TO  BUILD  A    TEMPLE.  99 

villa,  is  a  pain  and  a  reproach.       There  is  not  much 
need  at  the  present  day  for  urging  the  unseemUness  of 

such  a  contrast,  for  the  tendency  of  our  time  is  toward  [ 

handsome  church  buildings,  and  in  many  cases  towards  I 

extravagance   in    the   way   of  embellishment.      What  I 

we  have   more  need  to  look  at   is    the    disproportion  | 

of  the  sums  paid  by  rich  men,  and  even  by  men  who  f 
can    hardly    be    called    rich,    in    gratifying    their    own 
tastes  and  in  extending  the  kingdom  of  Christ.    JWe 
are  far  from  blaming  those  who,  having  great  wealth, 

spend  large  sums  from  year  to   year  on   yachts,   on  ! 

equipages,  on  picture  galleries,  on  jewellery  and  costly  ( 

furnishings.     Wealth  which  remunerates    honest    and  I 

wholesome  labour  is   not   all    selfishly    thrown    away.  I 

But  it  is  somewhat  strange  that  we  hear  so  seldom  of  I 

rich  Christian  men   devoting  their  superfluous  wealth  | 

to  maintaining  a  mission  station  with  a  whole  staff  of  f 

labourers,  or  to  the  rearing  of  colleges,  or  hospitals,  or  | 

Christian  institutions,  which  might  provide  on  a  large  t 

scale    for  Christian   activity   in    ways    that   might    be  [ 

wonderfully  useful.     It  is  in  this  direction  that  there  is  \ 

jrnost  need  to  press  the  example  of  David.     When  shall  \ 

this  new  enlargement  of  Christian  activity  take  place  ?  | 

Or  when  shall  men  learn  that  the  pleasure  of  spreading  | 

the  blessings  of  the  Gospel  by  the  equipment  and  main-  | 

tenance  of  a  foreign  missionary  or  mission  station  far  I 

exceeds  anything  to  be  derived  from  refinements  and  | 

luxuries  of  which  they  themselves  are  the  object  and  | 

the  centre  ?  \ 

When  the  thought  of  building  a  temple  occurred  to  j 
David,  he   conferred   on  the  subject  with  the  prophet 

Nathan.     The  Scripture  narrative    is   so  brief  that  it  | 

gives  us  no  information  about  Nathan,  except  in  con-  i 
nection   with  two  or  three  events  in  which  he  had  a 


ioo  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

share.     Apparently  he  was  a  prophet  of  Jerusalem,  on 
intimate  terms  with  David,  and  perhaps  attached  to  his 
court.     When  first  consulted    on    the    subject  by  the 
king,  he  gave   him  a  most  encouraging   answer,    but 
without  having  taken  any  special  steps  to  ascertain  the 
mind  of  God.     He  presumed  that  as  the  undertaking 
was    itself  so   good,   and  as   David  generally  was  so 
manifestly  under  Divine  guidance,  nothing  was  to  be 
said  but  that  he  should  go  on.     ''  Nathan  said  to  the 
king.  Go,  do  all  that  is  in  thine  heart,  for  the  Lord  is 
with  thee."    That  same  night,  however,  a  message  came 
to  Nathan  that  gave  a  new  complexion  to  the  proposal. 
He  was  instructed  to  remind  David,  first,  that  God  had 
never  complained  of  His  tabernacle-dwelling  from  the 
day  when  He  brought  up  the  children  of  Israel  to  that 
hour,    and   had    never  given  a  hint  that  He  desired  a 
house    of  cedar.     Further,    he   was    commissioned   to 
convey    to    David    the   assurance   of  God's   continued 
interest    and    favour    towards   him — of  that    interest 
which  began  by  taking  him  from  the  sheepfold  to  make 
him  king  over  Israel,  and  which  had  been  shown  con- 
tinuously in  the  success  which  had  been  given  him  in 
all  his  enterprises,  and  the  great  name  he  had  acquired, 
entithng  him  to  rank  with  the  great  men  of  the  earth. 
Towards  the  nation  of  Israel,  too,  God  was  actuated  by 
the  same  feeling  of  affectionate  interest ;  they  would  be 
planted,  set  firm  in  a  place  of  their  own,  delivered  from 
the  thraldom  of  enemies,  and  allowed  to  prosper  and 
expand  in  peace  and  comfort.     Still  further — and  this 
was    a   very  special    blessing — Nathan  was  to  inform 
David  that,  unlike  Saul,  he  was  not  to  be  the  only  one 
of  his  race  to  occupy  the  throne;  his  son  would  reign 
after  he  was  gathered  to  his  fathers,-  the  kingdom  would 
be   established  in   his   hands,    and   the    throne  of  his 


vii.]  PROPOSAL    TO  BUILD  A    TEMPLE.  loi  i 

kingdom    would    be    established    for    ever.     To    this  j 

favoured  son  of  his  would  be  entrusted  the  honour  of  | 

building  the  temple,  God  would  be  his  Father,  and  he  \ 

would  be  God's  son.     If  he  should  fall   into   sin,    he  \ 

w^ould    be  chastised  for   his    sin,    but    not    destroyed.  I 

The  Divine  mercy  would  not  depart  from  him  as  it  had  \ 

departed  from  Saul.     The  kernel  of  the  message  was  ; 

in  these  gracious  concluding  words — "  Thine  house  and 
thy  kingdom  shall  be  estabHshed  for  ever  before  thee  ; 
thy  throne  shall  be  established  for  ever." 

Here,    certainly,    was    a   very  remarkable    message, 
containing    both    elements    of  refusal  and  elements  of 
encouragement.     The  proposal  which  David  had  made 
to  build  a  temple  was  declined.     The  time  for  a  change, 
though  drawing  near,  had  not  yet  arrived.     The  curtain- 
canopied  tabernacle  had  been  designed  by  God  to  w^ean 
His   people  from  those    sensuous  ideas  of  worship  to 
which  the  magnificent  temples  of  Egypt  had  accustomed 
them,   and   to  give  them   the   true  idea  of  a  spiritual 
service,   though  not  without  the    visible  emblem  of  a 
present  God.     The  time  had  not  yet  arrived  for  chang- 
ing: this  simple  arrangement.      God  could  impart  His 
blessing  in  the  humble  tent  as  well  as  in  the  stately 
temple.    As  long  as  it  was  God's  pleasure  to  dwell  in  the  \ 

tabernacle,  so  long  might  David  expect  that  His  grace  I 

would  be  imparted  there.     So  we  may  say,  that  so  long  I 

as  it  is  manifestly  God's  pleasure  that  a  body  of  His  | 

worshippers  shall  occupy  a  humble  tabernacle,  so  long  I 

may  they  expect  that  He  will  shine  forth  there,  impart-  f 

ing  that  fulness  of  grace  and  blessing  which  is  the  true  i 

and  only  glory  of  any  place  of  worship.  j 

But_  the  message  through  Nathan  contained  also 
elements  of  encouragement,  chiefly  with  reference  to 
David's  offspring,  and  to  the  stability  and  permanence 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


of  his  throne.  To  appreciate  the  value  of  this  promise 
for  the  future,  we  must  bear  in  mind  the  great  in- 
security of  new  dynasties  in  Eastern  countries,  and  the 
fearful  tragedies  that  were  often  perpetrated  to  get  rid 
of  the  old  king's  family,  and  prepare  the  way  for  some 
ambitious  and  unscrupulous  usurper. 

We  hardly  need  to  recall  the  tragic  end  of  Saul,  the 
base  murder  of  Ishbosheth,  or  the  painful  deaths  of 
Asahel  and  Abner.  We  have  but  to  think  of  what 
happened  in  the  sister  kingdom  of  the  ten  tribes,  from 
the  death  of  the  son  of  its  first  king,  Jeroboam,  on  to 
its  final  extinction.  What  an  awful  record  the  history 
of  that  kingdom  presents  of  conspiracies,  murders,  and 
massacres  !  How  miserable  a  distinction  it  was  to  be 
of  the  seed  royal  in  those  days  !  It  only  made  one 
the  more  conspicuous  a  mark  for  the  poisoned  cup  or 
the  assassin's  dagger.  It  associated  with  the  highest 
families  of  the  realm  horrors  and  butcheries  of  which 
the  poorest  had  no  cause  even  to  dream.  Any  one 
who  had  been  raised  to  a  throne  could  not  but  sicken  at 
the  thought  of  the  atrocities  which  his  very  elevation 
might  one  day  bring  upon  his  children.  A  new  king 
could  hardly  enjoy  his  dignity  but  by  steeling  his  heart 
against  every  feeling  of  parental  love. 

And,  moreover,  these  constant  changes  of  the  royal 
family  were  very  hurtful  to  the  kingdom  at  large.  They 
divided  it  into  sections  that  raged  against  each  other 
with  terrible  fury.  For  of  all  wars  civil  wars  are  the 
worst  for  the  fierceness  of  the  passions  they  evoke,  and 
the  horrors  which  they  inflict.  Scotland  and  England 
too  have  had  too  much  experience  of  these  conflicts  in 
other  days.  Many  generations  have  elapsed  since  they 
were  ended,  but  we  have  many  memorials  still  of  the 
desolation  which  they  spread,  while  our  progress  and 


vii.]  PROPOSAL    TO  BUILD  A    TEMPLE.  103 


prosperity^  ever  since  they  passed  away,  show  us 
clearly  of  what  a  multitude  of  mercies  they  robbed 
the  land. 

To^David,  therefore,  it  was  an  unspeakable  comfort 
_to^  be_  assured  that  his  dynasty  would  be  a  stable 
.dynasty ;  that  his  son  would  reign  after  him  ;  that  a 
succession  of  princes  would  follow  with  unquestioned 
right  to  the  throne  ;  and  that  if  his  son,  or  his  son's 
son,  should  commit  sins  deserving  of  chastisement,  that 
chastisement  would  not  be  withheld,  but  it  would  not 
be  fatal,  it  would  bring  the  needed  correction,  and  thus 
the  throne  would  be  secure  for  ever.    A  father  naturally  I 

desires  peace  and  prosperity  for  his  children,  and  if  he  i 

extends  his  view   down  the  generations,  the  desire  is 
strong  that  it  may  be  well  with  them  and  with  their  \ 

seed  for  ever.     But  no  father,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  \ 

can  flatter  himself  that  his  posterity  shall  escape  their  \ 

share  of  the  current  troubles    and  calamities   of  Hfe.  j 

David,  but  for  this  assurance,  must  have  looked  forward  | 

to  his  posterity  encountering  their  share  of  those  name- 
less horrors  to  which  royal  children  were  often  born. 
It  was  an  unspeakable  privilege  to  learn,  as  he  did  now, 
that  his  dynasty  would  be  ahke  permanent  and  secure ;  [ 

that,  as  a  rule,  his  children  would  not  be  exposed  to  the  | 

atrocities  of  Oriental  successions  ;  that  they  would  be  | 

under  the  special  care    and   protection   of  God;    that  | 

their  faults    would    be   corrected    without    their   being  f 

destroyed  ;  and  that  this  state  of  blessing  would  con-  I 

tinue  for  ages  and  ages  to  come.  [ 

The  emotions  roused  in  David  by  this  communication  j 

were  alike   delightful    and    exuberant.       He    takes  no  j 

no_tice^f  the  disappointment — of  his  not  being  permitted  ! 

.to_build_  the    temple.       Any    regret    that    this    might  ! 

occasion  is  swallowed  up  by  his  delight  in  the  store  { 


lo;  THE  SECOND   BOOfC  OF  SAMUEL. 


of  blessing  actually  promised.     And  here  we  may  see 
a  remarkable  instance  of  God's  way  of  dealing  with  His 
people's  prayers.     Virtually,  if  not  formally,  David  had 
asked  of  God  to   permit  him  to  build  a  temple  to  His 
name.       That    petition,    bearing    though    it    did    very 
directly  on  God's  glory,  is  not  vouchsafed.     God  does 
not  accord  that  privilege  to   David.     But  in  refusing 
him  that  request.  He  makes  over  to  him  mercies  of  far 
higher  reach  and  importance.    He  refuses  his  immediate 
request  only  to  grant  to  him  far  above  all  that  he  was 
able  to  ask  or  think.     And  how  often  does  God  do  so  ! 
How  often,  when  His  people  are  worrying  and  perplex- 
ing themselves  about  their  prayers  not  being  answered, 
is  God  answering  them  in  a  far  richer  way  !     Giimpses 
of  this  we  see  occasionally,  but  the  full  revelation  of  it 
remains  for  the  future.      You  pray  to  the  degree  of 
agony  for  the  preservation  of  a  beloved  hfe ;  it  is  not 
granted  ;  God  appears  deaf  to  your  cry  ;  a  year  or  two 
after,    things    happen    that   would    have    broken   your 
friend's  heart  or  driven  reason  from  its  throne;  you 
understand  now  why  God  did  not  fulfil  your  petition. 
Oh  for  the  spirit  of  trust  that  shall  never  charge  God 
foolishly !    Oh  for  the  faith  that  does  not  make  haste,  but 
waits  patiently  for  the  Lord, — waits  for  the  explanation 
that  shall  come  in  the  end,  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus 
Christ  ! 

It  is  a  striking  scene  that  is  presented  to  us  when 
"  David  went  in,  and  sat  before  the  Lord."  It  is  the 
only  instance  in  Scripture  in  which  any  one  is  said  to 
have  taken  the  attitude  of  sitting  while  pouring  his 
heart  out  to  God.  Yet  the  nature  of  the  communion 
was  in  keeping  with  the  attitude.  David  was  like 
a  child  sitting  down  beside  his  father,  to  think  over 
some  wonderfully  kind  expression  of  his  intentions  to 


vii.]  PROPOSAL    TO  BUILD  A    TEMPLE.  105 

him,  and  pour  out  his  full  heart  into  his  ear.     We  may 

observe  in   the  address  of  David  how  pervaded   it  is 

by    the   tone    of  v^^onder.     This,    indeed,    is  its   great 

characteristic.     He  expresses  v^onder  at   the   past,   at 

God's  selecting  one  obscure  in  family  and  obscure  in 

person ;  he  wonders  at  the  present :  How  is  it  Thou 

hast  brought  me  thus  far  ?  and  still  more  he  wonders 

at  the  future,  the  provision  made  for  the  stability  of  his 

house  in  all  time  coming.     ''And  is  this  the  manner 

of  man,  O  Lord  God?"*     All  true  religious  feeling  is 

pervaded  by  an  element  of  wonder  ;  it  is  this  element 

that  warms  and  elevates  it.     In  David's  case  it  kindles 

intense  adoration  and  gratitude,  with  reference  both  to 

God's   dealings  with    himself  and    His    dealings   with 

Israel.     "  What  one  nation   in    the  earth  is   like  Thy 

people,  even  like  Israel,  whom  God  went  to  redeem  for 

a  people  to  Himself,  and  to  make  Him  a  name,  and  to 

do    for   you    great  things   and  terrible,   for  Thy  land, 

before  Thy  people,  which  Thou  redeemedst  to  Thee  from 

Egypt,  from  the  nations  and  their  gods  ?"    This  wonder 

at  past  goodness,  moreover,  begets  great  confidence  for 

the  future.     And  David  warmly  and  gratefully  expresses 

this  confidence,  and  looks  forward  with  exulting  feehngs 

to  the  blessings  reserved  for  him  and  his  house.     And 

finally  he  falls  into  the  attitude  of  supplication,   and 

prays  that  it  may  all  come  to  pass.     Not  that  he  doubts 

God's  word ;  the  tone  of  the  whole  prayer  is  the  tone 

of  gratitude  for  the  past  and  confidence  in  the  future. 


*  The  expression  is  very  obscure,  whether  we  take  the  affirmative 
form  of  the  Revised  Version  or  the  interrogative  form  of  the  Authorised 
Version.  "  And  this,  too,  after  the  manner  of  men,  O  Lord  God  !  " 
(R.V.)  We  must  choose  between  these  opposite  meanings.  We  prefer 
the  interrogative  form  of  the  A.  V.  David's  wonder  being  the  more 
excited  that  God's  ways  were  here  so  much  above  man's. 


io6  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

But  he  feels  it  right  to  take  up  the  attitude  of  a 
suppliant,  to  show,  as  we  believe,  that  it  must  all  come 
of  God's  free  and  infinite  mercy;  that  not  one  of  all 
the  good  things  which  God  had  promised  could  be 
claimed  as  a  right,  for  the  least  and  the  greatest  were 
due  alike  to  the  rich  grace  of  a  sovereign  God.  '^  There- 
fore now  let  it  please  Thee  to  bless  the  house  of  Thy 
servant,  that  it  may  continue  for  ever  before  Thee; 
for  Thou,  O  Lord  God,  hast  spoken  it,  and  with  Thy 
blessing  let  the  house  of  Thy  servant  be  blessed  for 
ever."  Appropriate  ending  for  a  remarkable  prayer  ! 
appropriate,  too,  not  for  David  only,  but  for  every 
Christian  praying  for  his  country,  and  for  every 
Christian  father  praying  for  his  family !  "  With  Thy 
blessing,"  bestowed  ahke  in  mercy  and  in  chastisement, 
in  what  Thou  givest  and  in  what  Thou  withholdest, 
but  making  all  things  work  together  for  eternal  good— 
"  With  Thy  blessing  let  the  house  of  Thy  servant  be 
blessed  for  ever." 

We  seem  to  see  in  this  prayer  the  very  best  of  David 
— much  intensity  of  feeling,  great  humility,  wondering 
gratitude,  holy  intimacy  and  trust,  and  supreme  satis- 
faction in  the  blessing  of  God.  We  see  him  walking 
in  the  very  light  of  God's  countenance,  and  supremely 
happy.  We  see  Jacob's  ladder  between  earth  and 
heaven,  and  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descend- 
ing on  it.  Moreover,  we  see  the  infinite  privilege 
which  is  involved  in  having  God  for  our  Father,  and 
in  being  able  to  realise  that  He  is  full  of  most  fatherly 
feelings  to  us.  The  joy  of  David  in  this  act  of 
fellowship  with  God  was  the  purest  of  which  human 
beings  are  capable.  It  was  indeed  a  joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory.  Oh  that  men  would  but  acquaint 
themselves  with  God  and  be  at  peace  !     Let  it  be  our 


vii.]  PROPOSAL    TO   BUILD  A    TEMPLE.  107 

aim  to  cherish  as  warm  sentiments  of  trust  in  God,  and 
to    look  forward  to    the  future  with  equal  satisfaction  \ 

and  delight.  J 

A  very  important  question  arises  in  connection  with  I 

this  chapter,  to  which  we  have  not  yet  adverted,  but  | 

which  we    cannot  pass  by.     In  that   promise  of  God     •         \ 
respecting  the  stabiHty  of  Da^ad's  throne  and  the  per-  I 

petual  duration  of  his  dynasty,  was  there  any  reference  j 

to  the  Messiah,  any  reference  to  the  spiritual  kingdom  i 

of  which  alone  it  could  be  said  with  truth  that  it  was  j 

to  last  for  ever  ?     The  answer  to  this  question  is  very  [ 

plain,  because  some  of  the  words  addressed  by  God  to  [ 

David  are  quoted  in  the  New  Testament  as  having  a  \ 

Messianic  reference.     "To  which  of  the  angels  said  He       '        \ 
at  any  time,  I  will  be  to  him  a  Father,  and  he  shall  be  \ 

to  Me  a  son  ?  "  (Heb.  i.  5).     If  we  consider,  too,  how  \ 

David's  dynasty  really  came  to  an  end  as  a  reigning 
family  some  five  hundred  years  after,  we  see  that  the 
language  addressed  to  him  was  not  exhausted  by  the 
fortunes  of  his  family.     In  the  Divine  mind  the  pro- 
phecy reached  forward  to  the  time  of  Christ,  and  only  * 
in    Christ  was   it    fully  verified.     And  it   seems  plain  \ 
from  some  words  of  St.  Peter  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  i 
that  David  understood  this.     He  knew  that  '^  God  had  \ 
sworn  to  him  that  of  the  fruit  of  his  loins,  according  to 
the   flesh.  He   would  raise   up  Christ    to   sit   on    His  ' 
throne  "  (Acts  ii.  30).     From  the  very  exalted  emotions 
which  the  promise  raised  in  his  breast,  and  the  enthu-  ; 
siasm  with  which    he  poured  forth    his  thanksgivings 
for  it,  we  infer  that  David  saw  in  it  far  more  than  a 
promise  that  for  generations  to  come  his  house  would 
enjoy  a  royal  dignity.     He  must  have  concluded  that 
the  great  hope  of  Israel  was  to  be  fulfilled  in  connection  j 
with  his  race.     God's  words  implied,  that  it  was  in  His 


io8  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

line  the  promise  to  Abraham  was  to  be  fulfilled — "  In 
thee  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
be  blessed."  He  saw  Christ's  day  afar  off  and  was 
glad.  To  us  who  look  back  on  that  day  the  reasons 
for  gladness  and  gratitude  are  far  stronger  than  they 
were  even  to  him.  Then  let  us  prize  the  glorious 
fact  that  the  Son  of  David  has  come,  even  the  Son  of 
God,  who  hath  given  us  understanding  that  we  may 
know  Him  that  is  true.  And  while  we  prize  the  truth, 
let  us  embrace  the  privilege;  let  us  become  one  with 
Him  in  whom  we  too  become  sons  of  God,  and  with 
whom  we  may  cherish  the  hope  of  reigning  for  ever  as 
kings  and  priests,  when  He  comes  to  gather  His  re- 
deemed that  they  may  sit  with  Him  on  the  throne  of 
His  glory. 


CHAPTER   X. 

FOREIGN    WARS. 
2  Samuel  viii.  i — 14. 

'^P^HE  transitions  of  the  Bible,  like  those  of  actual 
X  life,  are  often  singularly  abrupt ;  that  which  now 
hurries  us  from  the  scene  of  elevated  communion  with 
God  to  the  confused  noise  and  deadly  struggles  of  the 
battle-field  is  peculiarly  startling.  We  are  called  to 
contemplate  David  in  a  remarkable  light,  as  a  profes- 
sional warrior,  a  man  of  the  sword,  a  man  of  blood; 
wielding  the  weapons  of  destruction  with  all  the  decision 
and  effect  of  the  most  daring  commanders.  That  the 
sweet  singer  of  Israel,  from  whose  tender  heart  those 
blessed  words  poured  out  to  which  the  troubled  soul 
turns  for  composure  and  peace,  should  have  been  so 
familiar  with  the  horrors  of  the  battle-field,  is  incieed  a 
surprise.  We  can  only  say  that  he  was  led  to  regard 
all  this  rough  work  as  indispensable  to  the  very  exist- 
ence of  his  kingdom,  and  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  great 
ends  for  which  Israel  had  been  called.  Painful  and 
miserable  though  it  was  in  itself,  it  was  necessary  for 
the  accomplishment  of  greater  good.  The  bloodthirsty 
spirit  of  these  hostile  nations  would  have  swallowed  up 
the  kingdom  of  Israel,  and  left  no  trace  of  it  remaining. 
The  promise  to  Abraham,  '^  In  thee  and  in  thy  seed 
shall  all  the  families  of  the  earth  be  blessed,"  would 


no  THE   SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

have  ceased  to  have  any  basis  for  its  fulfilment.  Painful 
though  it  was  to  deal  death  and  destruction  on  every 
side,  it  would  have  been  worse  to  see  the  nation  of  Israel 
de£tro3^ed,  and  the  foundation  of  the  world's  greatest 
blessings  swept  for  ever  away. 

The  ''rest  from  all  his  enemies  round  about,"  referred 
to  in  the  first  verse  of  the  seventh  chapter,  seems  to 
refer  to  the  nearer  enemies  of  the  kingdom,  while  the 
wars  mentioned  in  the  present  chapter  were  mostly  with 
enemies  more  remote.  The  most  important  of  the  wars 
now  to  be  considered  was  directed  against  the  occupants 
of  that  large  territory  lying  between  Palestine  and  the 
Euphrates  which  God  had  promised  to  Abraham, 
although  no  command  had  been  given  to  dispossess  the 
inhabitants,  and  therefore  it  could  be  held  only  in 
tributary  subjection.  In  some  respects,  David  was  the 
successor  of  Joshua  as  well  as  of  Moses.  He  had  to 
continue  Joshua's  work  of  conquest,  as  well  as  Moses* 
work  of  political  arrangement  and  administration.  The 
nations  against  whom  he  had  now  to  go  forth  were  most 
of  them  warlike  and  powerful ;  some  of  them  were 
banded  together  in  leagues  against  him,  rendering 
his  enterprise  very  perilous,  and  such  as  could  have 
been  undertaken  by  no  one  who  had  not  an  immovable 
trust  in  God.  The  tw^entieth  Psalm  seems  to  express 
the  feelings  with  which  the  godly  part  of  the  nation 
would  regard  him  as  he  went  forth  to  these  distant  and 
perilous  enterprises  : — 

The.  Lord  answer  thee  in  the  day  of  trouble  ; 
The  name  of  the  God  of  Jacob  set  thee  up  on  high  ; 
Send  thee  help  from  the  sanctuary, 
-  And  strengthen  thee  out  of  Zion ; 
Remember  all  thy  offerings, 
And  accept  thy  burnt-sacrifice ;  [Selah 

Grant  thee  thy  heart  s  desire, 


vili.  I-I4-]  FOREIGN   WARS.  m 

And  fulfil  all  thy  counsel. 

We  will  triumph  in  thy  salvation, 

And  in  the  name  of  our  God  we  will  set  up  our  banners  t 

The  Lord  fulfil  all  thy  petitions. 

Now  know  I  that  the  Lord  saveth  His  anointed ; 

He  will  answer  him  from  His  holy  heaven 

With  the  saving  strength  of  His  right  hand. 

Some  trust  in  chariots,  and  some  in  horses, 

But  we  will  make  mention  of  the  name  of  the  Lord  our  God. 

They  are  bowed  down  and  fallen  ; 

But  we  are  risen,  and  stand  upright. 

Save,  Lord  ; 

Let  the  King  answer  us  when  we  call. 

It  is  an  instructive  fact  that  the  history  of  these 
wars  is  given  so  shortly.  A  single  verse  is  all  that  is 
given  to  most  of  the  campaigns.  This  brevity  shows 
very  clearly  that  another  spirit  than  that  which  moulded 
ordinary  histories  guided  the  composition  of  this  book. 
It  would  be  beyond  human  nature  to  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  describe  great  battles,  the  story  of  which  is 
usually  read  with  such  breathless  interest,  and  which 
gratify  the  pride  of  the  people  and  reflect  glory  on  the 
nation.  It  is  not  the  object  of  Divine  revelation  to 
furnish  either  brief  annals  or  full  details  of  wars  and 
other  national  events,  except  in  so  far  as  they  have  a 
spiritual  bearing — a  bearing  on  the  relation  between 
God  and  the  people.     From  first  to  last  the  purpose  ot  | 

the    Bible    is    simply    to    unfold    the    dispensation    of  | 

grace, — God's  progress  in  revelation  of  His  method  of  | 

making  an    end    of  sin,    and    bringing   in    everlasting  | 

righteousness.  \ 

We  shall  briefly  notice  what  is  said  regarding  the  I 

different  undertakings.  | 

I.  The   first  campaign  was  against  the   Philistines.  | 

Not  even  their  disastrous  discomfiture  near  the  plain 
of  Rephaim    had    taught  submission  to    that  restless 

\ 


112  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

people.  On  this  occasion  David  carried  the  war  into 
their  own  country,  and  took  some  of  their  towns, 
establishing  garrisons  there,  as  the  Philistines  had  done 
formerly  in  the  land  of  Israel.  There  is  some  obscurity 
in  the  w^ords  which  describe  one  of  his  conquests. 
According  to  the  Authorised  Version,  ''He  took 
Metheg-ammah  out  of  the  hand  of  the  Philistines." 
The  Revised  Version  renders,  "  He  took  the  bridle  of  the 
mother  city  out  of  the  hand  of  the  Philistines."  The 
parallel  passage  in  I  Chron.  xviii.  I  has  it,  "  He  took 
Gath  and  her  towns  out  of  the  hand  of  the  Philistines." 
This  last  rendering  is  quite  plain  ;  the  other  passage 
must  be  explained  in  its  light.  Gath,  the  city  of  King 
Achish,  to  which  David  had  fled  twice  for  refuge,  now 
fell  into  his  hands.  The  loss  of  Gath  must  have  been 
a  great  humiliation  to  the  Philistines  ;  not  even  Samson 
had  ever  inflicted  on  them  such  a  blow.  And  the 
policy  that  led  David  (it  could  hardly  have  been  without 
painful  feelings)  to  possess  himself  of  Gath  turned 
out  successful ;  the  aggressive  spirit  of  the  Philistines 
was  now  fairly  subdued,  and  Israel  finally  delivered 
from  the  attacks  of  a  neighbour  that  had  kept  them  for 
many  generations  in  constant  discomfort. 

2.  His  next  campaign  was  against  Moab.  As  David 
himself  had  at  one  time  taken  refuge  in  Gath,  so  he  had 
committed  his  father  and  mother  to  the  custody  of  the 
king  of  Moab  (i  Sam.  xxii.  3,4).  Jewish  writers  have 
a  tradition  that  after  a  time  the  king  put  his  parents  to 
death,  and  that  this  was  the  origin  of  the  war  which  he 
carried  on  against  them.  That  David  had  received  from 
them  some  strong  provocation,  and  deemed  it  necessary 
to  inflict  a  crushing  blow  for  the  security  of  that  part 
of  his  kingdom,  it  seems  hardly  possible  to  doubt. 
Ingratitude   was   none   of  his   failings,    nor  would  he 


viii.  1-14.]  FOREIGN  WARS.  I13 

who  was  SO  grateful  to  the  men  of  Jabesh-gilead  for 

burying  Saul  and  his  sons  have  been  severe  on  Moab 

if  Moab  had  acted  the  part  of  a  true  friend  in  caring 

for   his    father    and   mother.     When    we    read    of  the 

severity   practised    on    the    army    of    Moab,   we   are 

shocked.     And  yet  it  is  recorded  rather  as  a  token  of 

forbearance  than   a  mark  of  severity.     How   came    it 

that  the  Moabite  army  was  so  completely  in  David's 

power?     Usually,  as    we  have    seen,    when  an  army 

was   defeated   it  was    pursued  by   the  victors,  and  in 

the  course  of  the  flight   a    terrible    slaughter    ensued. 

But  the  Moabite  army  had  come  into  David's  power 

comparatively    whole.     This    could    only    have    been 

chrough  some  successful  piece  of  generalship,  by  which 

David  had  shut  them  up  in  a  position  where  resistance 

was   impossible.     Many  an  Eastern    conqueror  would 

have    put  the  whole  army  to  the  sword  ;  David  with 

a  measuring  line  measured  two-thirds  for  destruction 

and  a  full  third  for  preservation.     Thus  the  Moabites 

in  the  south-east  were  subdued  as  thoroughly  as  the 

Philistines  in   the   south-west,  and  brought  tribute  to 

the    conqueror,    in    token    of    their    subjection.     The 

explanation  of  some  commentators  that  it  was  not  the 

army,  but  the  fortresses,  of  Moab  that  David  dealt  with  | 

is   too    strained   to  be   for  a  moment  entertained.     It  | 

proceeds  on  a  desire  to  make  David  superior  to  his  age,  | 

on  unwilHngness  to  believe,  what,  however,  lies  on  the  | 

very  surface  of  the  story,  that  in  the  main  features  of 

his  warlike  policy    he    fell   in    with    the  maxims    and 

spirit  of  the  time. 

3.  The  third  of  his  campaigns  was  against  Hadad- 
ezer,  the  son  of  Rehob,  king  of  Zobah.  It  is  said  in 
the  chapter  before  us  that  the  encounter  with  this  prince 
took  place  "  as  he  went  to  recover  his  border  at  the 

VOL.    II.  8 


114  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


river  Euphrates ; "  in  the  parallel  passage  of  I  Chronicles 
it  is  ^'as  he  went  to  stablish  his  dominion  by  the  river 
Euphrates."     The  natural  interpretation  is,  that  David 
was  on  his  way  to  establish  his  dominion  by  the  river 
Euphrates,  when  this  Hadadezer  came  out  to  oppose 
him.     The  terms  of  the  covenant  of  God  with  Abraham 
assigned  to  him  the  land  *'  from  the  river  of  Egypt  to 
the  great  river,  the  river  Euphrates  "  (Gen.  xv.  1 8),  and 
when   the   territory  was  again  defined    to  Joshua,  its 
boundary  was  ''  from  the  wilderness  and  this  Lebanon 
even  unto  the  great  river,  the  river  Euphrates."    Under 
the  provisions  of  this  covenant,  as  made  by  Him  whose 
is  the  earth  and  the  fulness  thereof,  David  held  himself 
entitled  to  fix  the   boundary  of  his  dominion  by  the 
banks  of  the  river.     In  what  particular   form    he  de- 
signed to  do  this,  we  are  not  informed  ;  but  whatever 
may  have  been  his  purpose,  Hadadezer  set  himself  to 
defeat  it.     The  encounter  with  Hadadezer   could   not 
but  have  been  serious  to  David,  for  his  enemy  had  a 
great  force  of  military  chariots  and  horsemen  against 
whom  he  could  oppose  no  force  of  the  same  kind.    Never- 
theless, David's  victory  was  complete  ;  and  in  dealing 
with  that  very  force  in  which  he  himself  was  utterly 
deficient,  he  was  quite  triumphant ;  for  he  took  from 
his  opponent  a  thousand  and  seven  hundred  horsemen, 
as  well  as  twenty  thousand  footmen.     There  must  have 
been  some  remarkable  stroke  of  genius  in  this  achieve- 
ment, for  nothing  is  more  apt  to  embarrass  and  baffle  a 
commonplace  general  than  the  presence  of  an  opposing 
force  to  which  his  army  affords  no- counterpart. 

4.  But  though  David  had  defeated  Hadadezer,  not 
far,  as  we  suppose,  from  the  base  of  Mount  Hermon, 
his  path  to  the  Euphrates  was  by  no  means  clear. 
Another  body  of  Syrians,  the  Syrians  of  Damascus, 


viH.  1-14.]  FOREIGN   WARS. 


ii5 


having  come  from  that  city  to  help  Hadadezer^  seem  to 
have  been  too  late  for  this  purpose,  and   to  have  en- 
countered David  alone.     This,  too^  v/as  a  very  serious 
enterprise  for  David ;  for  though  we  are  not  informed 
whether,  like  Hadadezer,  they  had  arms  which  the  king 
of  Israel  could  not  match,  it  is  certain  that  the  army 
Df  so  rich  and   civilized  a'  state  as  Syria  of  Damascus 
would    possess    all    the    advantages    that    wealth    and 
experience  could  bestow.      But  in  his  battle  with  them, 
David  was  again  completely  victorious.     The  slaughter 
ivas  very  great — two-and-twenty  thousand  men.     This 
I'mmense  figure  illustrates  our  remark  a  little  while  ago  : 
^hat  the  slaughter  of  defeated    and   retreating   armies 
vvas  usually  prodigious.     So  entire  was  the  humiliation 
Q,i  this  proud  and  ancient  kingdom,  that  "  the  Syrians 
-became  servants  to  David,  and  brought  presents/'  thus 
i:\cknowledging  his  suzerainty  over  them.     Between  the 
precious  things  that  were  thus  offered  to  King  David 
and  the  spoil  which  he  took  from  captured  cities,  he 
|:jrought  to  Jerusalem  an  untold  mass  of  wealth,  which 
/je  afterwards  dedicated  for  the  building  of  the  Temple. 
5.  In  one  case,  the  campaign   was  a  peaceful  one. 
When  Toi,  king  01  Hamath,  heard  that  David  had 
^mitten  all  the  host  of  Hadadezer,  then  Toi  sent  Joram 
is  son   unto   King  David  to  salute  him  and  to  bless 
/iim,  because  he  had  fought  against  Hadadezer  and  had 
5  mitten  him,  for  Hadadezer  had  wars  with  Toi."     The 
l^ingdom  of  Toi   lay  in  the   valley    between    the    two 
parallel  ranges  of  Lebanon  and  anti-Lebanon,  and  it 
>^30  was  within  the  promised  boundary,  which  extended 
^  "  the  entering  in  of  Hamath."     Accordingly,  the  son 
jf  Toi  brought  with  him  vessels  of  silver,  and  vessels  of 
'■^old,  and  vessels  of  brass ;  these  also  did  King  David 
dedicate  to  the  Lord.     The  fame  of  David  as  a  warrior 


"■33^  ,    TUM  S£COND  BOOiC' OF ^  SAMUEL, ^ 

vwiss  now  such,  at  least  in  these  northern  rcgior.s,  that 
-furtJier  resistance  seemed  out.  oi"  the  question._  Sub- 
mission was  ihe  only  course  when  the  conqueror  was 
cviiitntjy  iupporttd  by  the  might  of  Heaven. 

6,  iu  the  aouth,  however,  there  seems  io  haAre;  been 
more  of  a  spirit  of  opp«5«itioT5.     No  Jairticuiara  of  the 
caropaiga  against  the  Edomites  are   fiven ;   but  it  ia 
stated  that  David  put  garrisons  in  Edoni ;  "  throughout 
'all  Edoits  ^2i    he    gamaona,   and   a^   the    Edomitea 
bccanie  servanta  to  David.**     The  piadng  of  garrisona 
thrmjgh  all  their  coiintry  shbw^  how  pbatina^  thca« 
Edomilcs  were,  and  ho^  certain  jQ^3avt^f«tunJ«d.  to 
fr«ah  acta    ®f   hcatiiity  had   they i^asot :  Ije^jn^  ■  htSi   in 
speairainl  by;  these '  gasriacDa,      ftxm^  Uie '  -  i]»tfodiiCtioo..  < 
to  Faalm  Is.  it  would  appear  that  lh«  insurrection  ^ 
Edcfsa  i^:>k  place  whik  D^'rA  waa  in  the  noith  con- 
tending siela  the  Iwo  bcdka  of  Sy riana  that  oppoacd 
hisa— ih€  Syrians  ci  Zo^ah-  and'  lho#e.  of  Damaacua.. 
1%  would  appear  that  Jc&b  was   detached  Trom   the 
annj.isi  Syria  in'  order  that  h*  pight  deal  with  the 
Ed^sniS^  ' .  In  Iht  introductk^  ■S®.-'-th€_Jp3aim»  Iwciye . 
thoyaa^^'-of'  the  Edomites  ar^  aald-  lo  have/'falkn  in 
Ihs^yailcy  of. Salt,    'la   ,th«  paaaage  now  bei^re   ua,.- 
it  ia  said  lahal  eifhtcen  thousand  Syrians  fdl  m  that 
valkyv      The   Valky^of  Sak  'ia  .in   the^  territory   of 
Edoia,     If  may 'be  that  adetachracnt  of  Syrian,  tioopa*. 
waa  3ent  lo^d  the  Edomitea,  and  that  both  sustained 
a  lerribfe^kughter.     Or  it  may  be  that,  as  in  Hebrew 
the  wwla  for  Syria  and  Edom  are  very  similar  (CpH 
and  2r^),  Ihc  one  word  may  by  accident  have  been 
subatituted  for  the  other. ,  r" 

.  /.  Menti^  la  also  made  of  the  Ammonites,  the 
Ainaiekitea,  and  the  Philistines  aa  having  been  subdued 
l»yl^wl.     Ppobably  in  iise  case  <d  the  Phiiiaunes  aod 


■I4-]  FOREIGN   WARS.  ,,7 


the  Amalekites  the  reference  is  to  the  previous  cam- 
paign already  recorded,  while  the  Ammonite  campaign 
may  be  the  one  of  wliich  we  have  the  record  afterwards. 
But  the  reference  to  these  campaigns  is  accompanied 
with  no  particulars. 

^  Twice  in   the  course  of  this   chapter  we  read  that 
"  the    Lord    gave    David     victory    whithersoever    he 
went."      It  does  not  appear,  however,  that  the  victory 
was   always  purchased  with  ease,  or  the  situation  of 
David  and  his  armies  free  from  serious  dangers.     The 
sixtieth    Psalm,  the  title   of  which   ascribes   it  to  this 
period,  makes  very  plain  allusion  to  a  time  of  extra- 
ordinary trouble  and  disaster  in  connection  with  one 
o^  these  campaigns.      ''O  God,  Thou  hast  cast  us  off; 
•^I^Qu  hast  scattered  us  ;  Thou  hast  been  displeased :  oh 
-/yr/^Thyself  to  us  again."     It  is  probable  that  when 
lyvid  first    encountered    the   Syrians    he  was   put  to 
jfeat   straits,    his    difficulty    being    aggravated   by   his 
distance  from  home  and  the  want  of  suitable  supplies. 
ff  the    Edomites,    taking    advantage    of  his    difficulty, 
chose   the   time    to    make   an  attack  on   the   southern 
iporder  of  the    kingdom,  and  if  the  king  was  obliged 
-^o   diminish  his    own   force    by  sending   Joab   against 
edom,  with  part  of  his   men,  his  position  must  have 
^een   trying   indeed.     But    David   did  not   let    go   his 
-^rust  in  God  ;  courage  and  confidence  came  to  him  by 
frayer,   and    he  was  able  to  say,    ^'Through    God  we 
5hall  do  valiantly ;  for  He  it  is  that  shall  tread  down 
dJl  our  enemies." 

The  effect  of  these  victories  must  have  been  very 
triking.  In  the  Song  of  the  Bow,  David  had  celebrated 
le  public  semces  of  Saul,  who  had  '^clothed  the 
aughters  of  Israel  in  scarlet,  with  other  delights,  who 
ad  put  on  ornaments  of  gold  on  their  apparel " ;  but 


ii8  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

all  that  Saul  had  done  for  the  kingdom  was  novv' 
thrown  into  the  shade  by  the  achievements  of  Davidi 
With  all  his  bravery,  Saul  had  never  been  able  tq 
subdue  his  enemies,  far  less  to  extend  the  limits  of 
the  kingdom.  David  accomplished  both  ;  and  it  is  th^. 
secret  of  the  difference  that  is  expressed  in  the  words! 
"The  Lord  gave  victory  to  David  whithersoever  hc 
went."  It  is  one  of  the  great  lessons  of  the  OkA 
Testament  that  the  godly  man  can  and  does  perfornj> 
his  duty  better  than  any  other  man,  because  the  Lor<i^ 
is  with  him  :  that  whether  he  be  steward  of  a  house 
or  keeper  of  a  prison,  or  ruler  of  a  kingdom,  likjr 
Joseph ;  or  a  judge  and  lawgiver,  like  Moses ;  or  jL 
warrior,  like  Samson,  or  Gideon,  or  Jephthah ;  or  (\^ 
king,  like  David,  or  Jehoshaphat,  or  Josiah ;  or  a  prip^c 
minister,  like  Daniel,  his  godliness  helps  him  to  do 
his  duty  as  no  other  man  can  do  his.  This  is  especially 
a  prominent  lesson  in  the  book  of  Psalms ;  it  is  in- 
scribed on  its  very  portals  ;  for  the  godly  man,  a^r 
the  very  first  Psalm  tells  us,  "  shall  be  like  a  tre^t 
planted  by  the  rivers  of  water,  that  bringeth  forth  hib 
fruit  in  his  season  ;  his  leaf  also  shall  not  wither,  any 
whatsoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper."  i 

In    these    warlike    expeditions,    King   David    forej" 
shadowed  the  spiritual  conquests  of  the  Son  of  David^ 
who     w^ent     forth     '^  conquering     and     to     conquer,; 
staggered   for  a  moment,   as  in    Gethsemane,    by  tb;^ 
rude  shock  of  confederate  enemies,  but  through  prayfj  r 
regaining    his    confidence    in    God,    and    triumphin ',., 
in    the    hour    and    power   of    darkness.     That    noble 
effusion  of  fire    and    feeling,   the    sixty-eighth   Psal|3f> 
seems  to  have  been  written  in  connection  with  the^-t 
wars.    The  soul  of  the  Psalmist  is  stirred  to  its  depths 
the   majestic   goings    of   Jehovah,    recently   witnesses^ 


I 

f 

viii.  I- 14.]  FOREIGN   WARS,  1 19  ! 

by  the  nation,  have  roused  his  most  earnest  feelings, 

and  he  strains  every  nerve   to  produce  a  hke  feehng 

in   the   people.     The   recent   exploits   of  the   king  are 

ranked  with  His  doings  when  He  marched  before  His 

people  through  the  wilderness,  and  Mount  Sinai  shook 

before    Him.     Great    delight    is    expressed    in    God's 

having  taken  up  His   abode  on   His  holy  hill,  in  the 

exaltation  of  His  people  in  connection  with  that  step, 

md   likewise   in   looking   forward    to    the    future  and 

mticipating    the    peaceful    triumphs    when    ''  princes 

should  come  out  of  Egypt,  and  Ethiopia  stretch  forth 

aer    arms     to     God."       Benevolent     and     missionary  I 

longings   mingle  with   the  emotions  of  the   conqueror  % 

Jt,nd  the  feelings  of  the  patriot.  \ 

\ 

"  Sing  unto  the  Lord,  ye  kingdoms  of  the  earth  j  | 

Oh,  sing  praises  unto  the  Lord,  | 

To  Him  that  rideth  upon  the  heaven  of  heavens  that  are  of  old.  f 

-"    Lo,  He  uttereth  His  voice,  and  that  a  mighty  voice."  [ 

It  is  interesting  to  see  how  in  this  extension  of  his 

♦  nfluence  among  heathen  nations,  the  Psalmist  began 

\o  cherish  and  express  these  missionary  longings,  and 

"fo  call  on  the  nations  to  sing  praises  unto  the  Lord.  « 

^t   has   been    remarked   that,    in    the  ordinary   course 

Df  Providence,  the  Bible  follows  the  sword,   that  the 

5eed  of  the  Gospel  falls  into  furrows  that  have  been 

prepared  by  war.     Of  this  missionary  spirit  we  find 

many   evidences    in    the    Psalms.      It   was    delightful 

^o    the    Psalmist   to   think    of   the   spiritual   blessings 

-that  were  to    spread  even    beyond    the   limits    of   the 

-|reat  empire  that    now  owned  the  sway  of  the    king 

of  Israel.     Mount  Zion  was  to  become  the  birth-place 

-yi    the   nations  ;    from    Egypt    and    Babylonia,    from 

philistia,    Tyre,    and    Ethiopia,   additions   were    to    be 

made  to  her  citizens  (Ps.  Ixxxvii.).     ^'  The  people  shall 


I 

I 

THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  I" 


be  gathered  together,  and  the  nations,  to  serve  the 
Lord  "  (Ps.  cii.  22).  ^^  All  the  ends  of  the  earth  shall 
remember  and  turn  to  the  Lord,  and  all  the  kindreds} 
of  the  nations  shall  worship  before  Him"  (Ps.  xxii.j 
27).  "All  nations  whom  Thou  hast  made  shall  comej 
and  worship  before  Thee,  O  Lord ;  and  they  shall! 
glorify  Thy  name "  (Ps.  Ixxxvi.  9).  ''  Make  a  joyfulj 
noise  unto  the  Lord,  all  ye  lands.  Enter  into  Hisi 
gates  with  thanksgiving,  and  into  His  courts  withj 
praise  "  (Ps.  c.  I,  4).  I 

Alas,  the  era  of  wars  has  not  yet  passed  away.; 
Even  Christian  nations  have  been  woefully  slow  toj 
apply  the  Christian  precept,  "  Inasmuch  as  liethJT 
in  you,  live  peaceably  with  all  men."  But  let  usl 
at  least  make  an  earnest  endeavour  that  if  there  must 
be  war,  its  course  may  be  followed  up  by  the  heralds| 
of  mercy,  and  that  wherever  there  may  occur  "  the 
battle  of  the  warrior,  and  garments  rolled  in  blood/- 
there  also  it  may  speedily  be  proclaimed,  *^  Untd 
us  a  Child  is  born,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given,  and  the 
government  is  on  His  shoulders :  and  His  name 
is  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  Mighty  God,  th^ 
Everlasting  Father,  Prince  of  Peace  "  (Isa.  ix.  6).  | 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ADMINISTRATION  OF  THE   KINGDOM, 
2  Samuel  viii.  15—18. 

T  F  the  records  of  David's  warlike  expeditions  are  brief, 
^  still  more  so  are  the  notices  of  his  work  of  peace. 
How  he  fulfilled  his  royal  functions  when  there  was  no 
war  to  draw  him  from  home,  and  to  engross  the  atten- 
tion both  of  the  king  and  his  officers  of  state,  is  told  us 
here  in  the  very  briefest  terms,  barely  affording  even 
the  outHne  of  a  picture.  Yet  it  is  certain  that  the 
activity  of  David's  character,  his  profound  interest  in 
the  welfare  of  his  people,  and  his  remarkable  talent 
for  administration,  led  in  this  department  to  very  con- 
spicuous and  remarkable  results.  Some  of  the  Psalms 
afford  glimpses  both  of  the  principles  on  which  he  acted, 
and  the  results  at  which  he  aimed,  that  are  fitted  to  be 
of  much  use  in  filling  up  the  bare  skeleton  now  before 
us.  In  this  point  of  view,  the  subject  may  become 
interesting  and  instructive,  as  undoubtedly  it  is  highly 
important.  For  we  must  remember  that  it  was  with 
reference  to  the  spirit  in  which  he  was  to  rule  that  David 
was  called  the  man  after  God's  heart,  and  that  he 
formed  such  a  contrast  to  his  predecessor.  And  further 
we  are  to  bear  in  mind  that  in  respect  of  the  moral  and 
spiritual  qualities  of  his  reign  David  had  for  his  Suc- 
cessor the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.    "  The  Lord  God  will  give 


THE  SECO.YD  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


unto  Him  the  throne  of  His  servant  David/'  said  the 
angel  Gabriel  to  Mary,  '^  and  He  shall  reign  over  the 
house  of  judah  for  ever,  and  of  His  kingdom  there  shall 
be  no  end."  It  becomes  us  to  make  the  most  of  what 
is  told  us  of  the  peaceful  administration  of  David's 
kingdom,  in  order  to  understand  the  grounds  on  which 
our  Lord  is  said  to  have  occupied  His  throne. 

The  first  statement  in  the  verses  before  us  is  com- 
prehensive and  suggestive  :  '^  And  David  reigned  over  all 
Israel;  and  David  executed  judgment  and  justice  Muh 
all  his  people."  The  first  thing  pointed  out  to  us  herfe  }  ^ 
the  catholicity  of  his  kingly  government,  embracing  ^(( 
Israel,  all  people.  He  did  not  bestow  his  attention 
one  favoured  section  of  the  people,  to  the  neglect  Oi 
careless  oversight  of  the  rest.  He  did  not,  for  example, 
seek  the  prosperity  of  his  own  tribe,  Judah,  to  the 
neglect  of  the  other  eleven.  In  a  word,  there  was  no 
favouritism  in  his  reign.  This  is  not  to  say  that  he 
did  not  like  some  of  his  subjects  better  than  the  rest. 
There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  liked  the  tribe 
of  Judah  best.  But  whatever  preferences  of  this  kind 
he  may  have  had — and  he  would  not  have  been  man  if 
he  had  had  none — they  did  not  limit  or  restrict  his 
royal  interest ;  they  did  not  prevent  him  from  seeking 
the  welfare  of  every  portion  of  the  land,  of  every  section 
of  the  people.  Just  as,  in  the  days  when  he  was  a 
shepherd,  there  were  probably  some  of  his  sheep  and 
lambs  for  which  he  had  a  special  affection,  yet  that  did 
not  prevent  him  from  studying  the  welfare  of  the  whole 
flock  and  of  every  animal  in  it  with  most  conscientious 
care ;  so  was  it  with  his  people.  The  least  interesting 
of  them  were  sacred  in  his  eyes.  They  were  part  of  his 
charge,  and  they  were  to  be  studied  and  cared  for  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  rest.     In  this  he  reflected  that 


viii.  i5-i3.]    ADMIMSTRATION  OF  THE  KINGDOM.  123 

universality  of  God's  care  on  which  we  find  the  Psahnist 
dwelhng  with  such  complacency :  '^  The  Lord  is  good 
to  all;  and  His  tender  mercies  are  over  all  His  works.  \ 
The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon  Thee ;  and  Thou  givest  them  | 
their  meat  in  due  season.     Thou  openest  Thine  hand,  | 
and  satisfiest  the  desire  of  every  living  thing."     And  \ 
may  we  not  add  that  this  quality  of  David's  rule  fore-  « 
hadowed  the  catholicity  of  Christ's  kingdom  and  His  j 
lorious  readiness   to  bestow  blessing  on  every  side  ?  i 
Come  unto  Me,  ail  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy-laden, 
av^tX\  will  give  you  rest."     "  On  the  last,  that  great  day  j 
<^f  If^e  feast,  Jesus  stood  and  cried.  If  any  man  thirst,  j 
/ef    Aim  come  unto  Me  and  drink."     ''Where  there  is  t 
ri^tirher  Jewnor  Greek,  circumcision  nor  uncircumcision,  \ 
bond  nor  free ;  but  Christ  is  all  and  in  all."     "  Ye  are  i 
all  one  in  Christ  Jesus."  | 
In  the  next  place,  we  have  much  to  learn  from  the  f 
statement  that  the  most  prominent  thing  that  David  did  ( 
was  to  "  execute  judgment  and  justice  to  the  people."  [ 
That  was  the  solid  foundation  on  which  all  his  benefits  [ 
rested.     And    these  words  are  not  words  of  form    or  j 
words  of  course.     For  it  is  never  said   that  Saul  did  \ 
anything  of  the  kind.     There  is  nothing  to  show  that  ^ 
Saul  was  really  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  people,  i 
or  that  he  took  any  pains  to  secure  that  just  and  orderly  i 
administration  on  which  the  prosperity  of  his  kingdom  | 
depended.     And  most    certainly    they    are    not   words  | 
that  could  have  been  used  of  the  ordinary  government  f 
of    Oriental    kings.       Tyranny,    injustice,    oppression,  ( 
robbery    of    the    poor    by    the    rich,    government    by  [ 
favourites    more    cruel    and    unprincipled    than    their  j 
masters,  imprisonments,  fines,  conspiracies,  and  assas- 
sinations, were  the  usual  features  of  Eastern  govern- 
ment.    And  to  a  great  extent  they  are  features  of  the  j 

I 


124  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

government  of  Syria  and  other  Eastern  countries  even 
at  the  present  day.  It  is  in  vivid  contrast  to  all  these 
things  that  it  is  said,  ''  David  executed  judgment  and 
justice."  Perhaps  there  is  no  need  for  assigning  a 
separate  meaning  to  each  of  these  words;  they  may  be 
regarded  as  just  a  forcible  combination  to  denote  the 
all-pervading  justice  which  was  the  foundation  of  the 
whole  government.  He  was  just  in  the  laws  which  he 
laid  down,  and  just  in  the  decisions  which  he  gave. 
He  was  inaccessible  to  bribes,  proof  against  the  in- 
fluence of  the  rich  and  powerful,  and  deaf  in  such 
matters  to  every  plea  of  expediency;  he  regarded 
nothing  but  the  scales  of  justice.  What  confidence  and 
<:omfort  an  administration  of  this  kind  brought  may  in 
some  measure  be  inferred  from  the  extraordinary  satis- 
faction of  many  an  Eastern  people  at  this  day  when  the 
administration  of  justice  is  committed  even  to  foreigners, 
if  their  one  aim  will  be  to  deal  justly  with  all.  On  this 
foundation,  as  on  solid  rock,  a  ruler  may  go  on  to 
devise  many  things  for  the  welfare  of  his  people.  But 
apart  from  this  any  scheme  of  general  improvement 
which  may  be  devised  is  sure  to  be  a  failure,  and  all 
the  money  and  wisdom  and  practical  ability  that  may 
be  expended  upon  it  will  only  share  the  fate  of  the 
numberless  cart-loads  of  solid  material  in  the  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress  "  that  were  cast  into  the  Slough  of  Despond. 

This  idea  of  equal  justice  to  all,  and  especially  to  those 
who  had  no  helper,  was  a  very  beautiful  one  in  David's 
eyes.  It  gathered  round  it  those  bright  and  happy 
features  which  in  the  seventy-second  Psalm  are  asso- 
ciated with  the  administration  of  another  King.  "  Give 
the  king  Thy  judgments,  O  God,  and  Thy  righteousness 
to  the  king's  son.  He  shall  judge  Thy  people  with 
righteousness,    and  Thy   poor  with  judgment."      The 


viii.  i5-iS.]    ADMINISTRATION  OF  THE  KINGDOM,         125 


beauty  of  a  just  government  is  seen  most  clearly  in  its 
treatment  of  the  poor.  It  is  the  poor  who  suffer  most 
from  unrighteous  rulers.  Their  feebleness  makes  them 
easier  victims.  Their  poverty  prevents  them  from 
dealing  in  golden  bribes.  If  they  have  little  individually 
wherewith  to  enrich  the  oppressor,  their  numbers 
make  up  for  the  small  share  of  each.  Very  beautiful, 
therefore,  is  the  government  of  the  king  who  ''  shall 
judge  the  poor  of  the  people,  who  shall  save  the  children 
of  the  needy,  and  shall  break  in  pieces  the  oppressor." 
The  thought  is  one  on  which  the  Psalmist  dwells  with 
great  delight.     "  He  shall  deliver  the  needy  when  he  |. 

crieth,  the  poor  also,  and  him  that   hath   no    helper.  \ 

He  shall  spare  the  poor  and  needy,  and  shall  save  the  ; 

souls  of  the  needy.     He  shall  redeem  their  soul  from  \ 

deceit  and  violence,  and  precious  shall  their  blood  be  f 

in  his  sight."     So  far  from  need  and  poverty  repelling  [ 

him,  they  rather   attract   him.     His   interest   and  his  I 

sympathy  are  moved  by  the  cry  of  the  destitute.     He  | 

would  fain  lighten  the  burdens  that  weigh  them  down  j 

so  heavily,  and  give  them  a  better  chance  in  the  struggle 
of  life.     He  would  do  something  to  elevate  their  life  [ 

above  the  level  of  mere  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  I 

water.     He  recognises  fully  the  brotherhood  of  man.  | 

And  in  all  this  we  find  the  features  of  that  higher  | 

government  of  David's  Son  which  shows  so  richly  His  I 

most  gracious  nature.     The  cry  of  sorrow  and  need,  as  \ 

it  rose  from  this  dark  world,  did  not  repel,  but  rather  | 

attracted.  Him.     Though  the  woes  of  man  sprang  from  \ 

his  own  misdeeds.  He  gave  Himself  to  bear  them  and 
carry  their  guilt  away.  All  were  in  the  lowest  depths 
of  spiritual  poverty,  but  for  that  reason  His  hand  was 
the  more  freely  offered  for  their  help.  The  one  con- 
dition   on  which  that   help  was  given  was,  that  they 


126  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

should  own  their  poverty,  and  acknowledge  Him  as  their 
Benefactor,  and  accept  all  as  a  free  gift  at  His  hands. 

But  more  than  that,  the  condition  of  the  poor  in  the 
natural  sense  was  very  interesting  to  Jesus.  It  was 
with  that  class  He  threw  in  His  lot.  It  was  among 
them  He  lived ;  it  was  their  sorrows  and  trials  He  knew 
by  personal  experience ;  it  was  their  welfare  for  which 
He  laboured  most.  Always  accessible  to  every  class, 
most  respectful  to  the  rich,  and  ever  ready  to  bestow 
His  blessings  wherever  they  were  prized,  yet  it  was 
true  of  Christ  that  ^'He  spared  the  poor  and  needy 
and  saved  the  souls  of  the  needy."  And  in  a  tem- 
poral point  of  view,  one  of  the  most  striking  effects 
of  Christ's  religion  is,  that  it  has  so  benefited,  and 
tends  still  more  to  benefit,  the  poor.  Slavery  and 
tyranny  are  among  its  most  detested  things.  Regard 
for  man  as  man  is  one  of  its  highest  principles.  It 
detects  the  spark  of  Divinity  in  every  hum.an  soul, 
grievously  overlaid  with  the  scum  and  filth  of  the 
world;  and  it  seeks  to  cleanse  and  brighten  it,  till  it 
shine  forth  in  clear  and  heavenly  lustre.  It  is  a  most 
Christian  thought  that  the  gems  in  the  kingdom  of  God 
are  not  to  be  found  merely  where  respectability  and 
culture  disguise  the  true  spiritual  condition  of  humanity, 
but  even  among  those  who  outwardly  are  lost  and  dis- 
reputable. Not  the  least  honourable  of  the  reproachful 
terms  applied  to  Jesus  was — '^  the  Friend  of  publicans 
and  sinners." 

We  are  not  to  think  of  David,  however,  as  being 
satisfied  if  he  merely  secured  justice  to  the  poor  and 
succeeded  in  hghtening  their  yoke.  His  ulterior  aim 
was  to  fill  his  kingdom  with  active,  useful,  honourable 
citizens.  This  is  plain  from  the  beautiful  language  of 
^ome  of  the  Psalms.     Both  for  old  and  young,  he  had  a 


15- 18.]     ADMINISTRATION  OF  THE  KIXGDOM.         127 


beautiful  ideal.  ''The  righteous  shall  flourish  as  the 
palm  tree;  he  shall  grow  like  a  cedar  in  Lebanon.  Those 
that  be  planted  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  shall  flourish 
in  the  courts  of  our  God.  They  shall  still  bring  forth 
fruit  in  old  age;  they  shall  be  fat  and  flourishing"  (Ps. 
xcii.  12-14).  And  so  for  the  young  his  desire  was — 
'*  That  our  sons  may  be  as  plants,  grown  up  in  their 
youth ;  that  our  daughters  may  be  as  corner-stones, 
polished  after  the  similitude  of  a  palace."  Moral 
beauty,  and  especially  the  beauty  of  active  and  useful 
lives,  was  the  great  object  of  his  desire.  Can  anything 
be  better  or  more  enlightened  as  a  royal  policy  than  \ 

that  which  we  thus  see  to  have  been  David's— in  the  ^ 

first  place,  a  policy  of  universal  justice ;  in  the  second 
place,  of  special  regard  for  those  who  on  the  one  hand  \ 

are    most    liable    to    oppression  and  on    the  other  are  \ 

most  in  need  of  help  and  encouragement;  and  in  the  ! 

third    place,   a    policy    whose    aim    is    to    promote  ex-  | 

cellence  of  character,  and  to  foster  in  the  young  those  | 

graces  and  virtues  which  wear  longest,  which  preserve  } 

the    freshness   and  enjoyment  of  life  to  the  end,  and  | 

which    crown  their  possessors,  even  in    old  age,  with  i 

the  respect  and  the  affection  of  all  ?  \ 

The  remaining  notices  of  David's  administration  in  \ 

the  passage  before  us  are  simply  to  the  effect  that  the  \ 

government  consisted  of  various  departments,  and  that  | 

each  department  had  an  officer  at  its  head.  t 

I.  There  was  the  military  department,  at  the  head  f; 

of  which  was  Joab,  or  rather  he  was  over  ''  the  host " —  \ 

the  great  muster  of  the  people  for  military  purposes.     A  I 

more  select  body,  ''the  Cherethites  and  the  Pelethites,"  j 

seems  to  have  formed  a  bodyguard  for  the  king,  or  a  | 

band  of  household  troops,  and  was  under  a  separate  I 

commander.     The    troops    forming    "the   host"    were  | 

i 

i 
I 
I 


128  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

divided  into  twelve  courses  of  twenty-four  thousand  each, 
regularly  officered,  and  for  one  month  of  the  year  the 
officers  of  one  of  the  courses,  and  probably  the  people, 
or  some  of  them,  attended  on  the  king  at  Jerusalem 
(i  Chron.  xxvii.  i).  Of  the  most  distinguished  of  his 
soldiers  who  excelled  in  feats  of  personal  valour,  David 
seems  to  have  formed  a  legion  of  honour,  conspicuous 
among  whom  were  the  thirty  honourable,  and  the 
three  who  excelled  in  honour  (2  Sam.  xxiii.  28).  It 
is  certain  that  whatever  extra  power  could  be  given 
by  careful  organization  to  the  fighting  force  of  the 
country,  the  army  of  Israel  under  David  possessed  it  in 
the  fullest  degree. 

2.  There  was  the  civil  department,  at  the  head  of 
which  were  Jehoshaphat  the  recorder  and  Seraiah  the 
scribe  or  secretary.  While  these  were  in  attendance 
on  David  at  Jerusalem,  they  did  not  supersede  the 
ordinary  home  rule  of  the  tribes  of  Israel.  Each  tribe 
had  still  its  prince  or  ruler,  and  continued,  under  a 
general  superintendence  from  the  king,  to  conduct  its 
local  affairs  (i  Chron.  xxvii.  16-22).  The  supreme 
council  of  the  nation  continued  to  assemble  on  occasions 
of  great  national  importance  (l  Chron.  xxviii.  i),  and 
though  its  influence  could  not  have  been  so  great  as  it 
was  before  the  institution  of  royalty,  it  continued  an 
integral  element  of  the  constitution,  and  in  the  time 
of  Rehoboam,  through  its  influence  and  organization 
(i  Kings  xii.  3,  16),  the  kingdom  of  the  ten  tribes  was 
set  up,  almost  without  a  struggle  (l  Chron.  xxiii.  4). 
This  home-rule  system,  besides  interesting  the  people 
greatly  in  the  prosperity  of  the  country,  was  a  great 
check  against  the  abuse  of  the  royal  authority ;  and  it 
is  a  proof  that  the  confidence  of  Rehoboam  in  the 
stabiUty   of  his   government,   confirmed  perhaps  by  a 


viii.  i5-iS.]    ADMINISTRATION  OF  THE  KINGDOM.         129 


superstitious  view  of  that  promise  to  David,  must  liave 
been  an  absolute  infatuation,  the  product  of  utter  inex- 
perience on  his  part,  and  of  the  most  foolish  counsel 
ever  tendered  by  professional  advisers. 

3.  Ecclesiastical  administration.  The  capture  of  Jeru- 
salem and  its  erection  into  the  capital  of  the  kingdom 
made  a  great  change  in  ecclesiastical  arrangements. 
For  some  time  before  it  would  have  been  hard  to  tell 
where  the  ecclesiastical  capital  was  to  be  found.  Shiloh 
had  been  stripped  of  its  glory  when  Ichabod  received  his 
name,  and  the  Philistine  armies  destroyed  the  place. 
Nob  had  shared  a  similar  fate  at  the  hands  of  Saul. 
The  old  tabernacle  erected  by  Moses  in  the  wilderness 
was  at  Gibeon  (i  Chron.  xxi.  29),  and  remained  there 
even  after  the  removal  of  the  ark  to  Zion  (i  Kings  iii.  4). 
At  Hebron,  too,  there  must  have  been  a  shrine  while 
David  reigned  there.  But  from  the  time  when  David 
brought  up  the  ark  to  Jerusalem,  that  city  became  the 
greatest  centre  of  the  national  worship.  There  the 
services  enjoined  by  the  law  of  Moses  were  celebrated  ;  j 

it  became  the  scene  of  the  great  festivals  of  Passover,  j 

Pentecost,  and  Tabernacles.  j: 

We   are    told  that    the   heads    of  the   ecclesiastical  | 

department  were  Zadok  the  son  of  Ahitub  and  Ahime-  | 

lech  the  son  of  Abiathar.     These  represented  the  elder  | 

and  the  younger  branches  of  the  priesthood.     Zadok  | 

was    the    lineal    descendant    of   Eleazar,    Aaron's    son  ^ 

(i  Chron.  vi.  12),  and  was  therefore  the  constitutional  ' 

successor  to  the  high-priesthood.  Ahimelech  the  son 
of  Abiathar  represented  the  family  of  Eli,  who  seems  to 
have  been  raised  to  the  high-priesthood  out  of  order, 
perhaps  in  consequence  of  the  illness  or  incompetence 
of  the  legitimate  high-priest.  It  is  of  some  interest  to 
note  the  fact  that  under  David  two  men  were  at  the 

VOL.    II,  9 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 


head  of  the  priesthood,  much  as  it  was  in  the  days  of 
our  Lord,  when  Annas  and  Caiaphas  are  each  called 
the  high-priest.  The  ordinary  priests  were  divided 
into  four-and-twenty  courses,  and  each  course  served 
in  its  turn  for  a  limited  period,  an  arrangement  which 
still  prevailed  in  the  days  of  Zacharias,  the  father  of 
John  the  Baptist.  A  systematic  arrangement  of  the 
Levites  was  likewise  made  ;  some  were  allocated  to  the 
service  of  the  Temple,  some  were  porters,  some  were 
singers,  and  some  were  officers  and  judges.  Of  the 
six  thousand  who  filled  the  last-named  office,  ^'  chief 
fathers  "  as  they  were  called,  nearly  a  half  were  allocated 
among  the  tribes  east  of  the  Jordan,  as  being  far  from 
the  centre,  and  more  in  need  of  oversight.  It  is  pro- 
bable that  this  large  body  of  Levites  were  not  Hmited 
to  strictly  judicial  duties,  but  that  they  performed  im- 
portant functions  in  other  respects,  perhaps  as  teachers, 
physicians,  and  registrars.  It  is  not  said  that  Samuel's 
schools  of  the  prophets  received  any  special  attention, 
but  the  deep  interest  that  David  must  have  taken  in 
Samuel's  w^ork,  and  his  early  acquaintance  with  its 
effects,  leave  little  room  to  doubt  that  these  institutions 
were  carefully  fostered,  and  owed  to  David  some  share 
of  the  vitality  which  they  continued  to  exhibit  in  the 
days  of  Elijah  and  Elisha.  It  is  very  probable  that 
the  prophets  Gad  and  Nathan  were  connected  with 
these  institutions. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  say  how  far  these  careful 
ecclesiastical  arrangements  were  instrumental  in  foster- 
ing the  spirit  of  genuine  piety.  But  there  is  too  much 
reason  to  fear  that  even  in  David's  time  that  element 
was  very  deficient.  The  bursts  of  rehgious  enthu- 
siasm that  occasionally  rolled  over  the  country  were  no 
sure  indications  of  piety  in  a  people  easily  roused  to 


6 

'- 

viii.  I5-I8.]    ADMINISTRATION  OF  THE  KINGDOM.         131 

temporary  gushes  of  feeling,  but  deficient  in  stability. 
There  often  breathes    in    David's    psalms    a    sense    of 

loneliness,  a   feeling  of  his  being  a    stranger   on    the  I 

earth,   that  seems  to    show  that    he  wanted  congenial  |; 

company,   that   the   atmosphere  was  not  of  the  godly  | 

quality  he   must   have  wished.     The  bloody  Joab  was  ( 

his    chief  general,    and    at    a    subsequent    period    the  • 
godless   Ahithophel   was    his    chief  counsellor.      It  is 
even  probable  that  the  intense  piety  of  David   brought 
him   many  secret  enemies.     The  world  has  no  favour 
for  men,  be  they  kings   or  priests,   that  repudiate  all 

compromise  in  religion,   and  insist   on  God  being  re-  \ 

garded  with    supreme    and    absolute    honour.     Where  f 

religion  interferes   with   their  natural  inclinations   and  | 

lays  them  under  inviolable  obligations  to  have  regard  | 

to  the  will  of  God,  they  rebel  in  their  hearts  against  it,  \ 

and  they  hate  those  who  consistently  uphold  its  claims.  '\ 

The  nation  of  Israel  appears  to  have  been  pervaded  by  \ 

an  undercurrent  of  disHke  to  the    eminent  holiness  of  \ 

David,  which,  though  kept  in  check  by  his  distinguished  I 

services  and  successes,  at  last   burst  out  with  terrific  [ 

violence  in  the  rebellion  of  Absalom.     That  villainous  [ 

movement  would  not   have   had    the   vast    support   it  j 

received,  especially  in  Jerusalem,  if  even  the  people  of  | 

Judah  had  been   saturated  with   the  spirit  of  genuine  ^ 

piety.     We  cannot  think  much  of  the  piety  of  a  people  \ 

that  rose  up  against  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel  and  the  \ 

great  benefactor  of   the    nation,    and    that    seemed    to  \ 

anticipate  the  cry,   "  Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas."  f 

The  systematic    administration  of  his    kingdom    by  \ 
King  David   was   the   fruit  of  a   remarkable  faculty  of 
orderly    arrangement    that    belonged    to    most    of  the 
great   men  of   Israel.     We  see  it  in  Abraham,  in  his 

prompt  and  successful  marshalling  of  his   servants  to  [ 


THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


pursue  and  attack  the  kings  of  the  East  when  they 
carried  off  Lot ;  we  see  it  in  Joseph,  first  collecting  and 
then  distributing  the  stores  of  food  in  Egypt ;  in  Moses, 
conducting  that  marvellous  host  in  order  and  safety 
through  the  wilderness  ;  and,  in  later  times,  in  Ezra 
and  Nehemiah,  reducing  the  chaos  which  they  found  at 
Jerusalem  to  a  state  of  order  and  prosperity  which 
seemed  to  verify  the  vision  of  the  dry  bones.  We  see 
it  in  the  Son  of  David,  in  the  orderly  way  in  which  all 
His  arrangements  were  made  :  the  sending  forth  of  the 
twelve  Apostles  and  the  seventy  disciples,  the  arranging 
of  the  multitude  when  He  fed  the  five  thousand,  and 
the  careful  gathering  up  of  the  fragments  "that  nothing 
be  lost."  In  the  spiritual  kingdom.,  a  corresponding 
order  is  demanded,  and  times  of  peace  and  rest  in  the 
Church  are  times  when  this  development  is  specially  to 
be  studied.  Spiritual  order,  spiritual  harmony :  God 
in  His  own  place,  and  self,  with  all  its  powers  and 
interests,  as  well  as  our  brethren,  our  neighbours,  and 
the  world,  all  in  their' s — this  is  the  great  requisite  in 
the  individual  heart.  The  development  of  this  holy 
order  in  the  individual  soul;  the  development  oi  family 
graces,  the  due  Christian  ordering  of  homes ;  the 
development  of  public  graces — patriotism,  freedom, 
godhness,  in  the  State,  and  in  the  Church  of  the  spirit 
that  seeks  the  instruction  of  the  ignorant,  the  recovery 
of  the  erring,  the  comforting  of  the  wretched,  and  the 
advancement  everywhere  of  the  cause  of  Christ — in 
a  word,  the  increase  of  spiritual  wealth — these  very 
specially  are  objects  to  which  in  all  times,  but  especially 
in  quiet  times,  ail  hearts  and  energies  should  be  turned. 
What  can  be  more  honourable,  what  can  be  more 
blessed,  than  to  help  in  advancing  these  ?  More  life, 
more   grace,  more   prayer,  more   progress,  more  mis- 


viii.  I5-I8.]    ADMINISTRATION  OF  THE  KINGDOM.         133 

sionary  ardour,  more  self-denying  love,  more  spiritual 
beauty — what  higher  objects  can  the  Christian  minister 
aim  at  ?  And  how  better  can  the  Christian  king  or 
the  Christian  statesman  fulfil  and  honour  his  office  than 
by  using  his  influence,  so  far  as  he  legitimately  may, 
in  furthering  the  virtues  and  habits  characteristic  of 
men  that  fear  God  while  they  honour  the  king  ? 


CHAPTER   XII. 

DAVID    AND    MEPHIBOSHETH, 
2  Samuel  ix. 

THE  busy  life  which  King  David  was  now  leading 
did  not  prevent  memory  from  occasionally  run- 
ning back  to  his  early  days  and  bringing  before  him 
the  friends  of  his  youth.  Among  these  remembrances 
of  the  past,  his  frien 'ship  and  his  covenant  with 
Jonathan  were  sure  to  hold  a  conspicuous  place.  On 
one  of  these  occasions  the  thought  occurred  to  him 
that  possibly  some  descendant  of  Jonathan  might  still 
be  living.  He  had  been  so  completely  severed  from 
his  friend  during  the  last  years  of  his  life,  and  the  un- 
fortunate attempt  on  the  part  of  Ishbosheth  had  made 
personal  intercourse  so  much  more  difficult,  that  he 
seems  not  to  have  been  aware  of  the  exact  state  of 
Jonathan's  family.  It  is  evident  that  the  survival  of  any 
descendant  of  his  friend  was  not  pubhcly  known,  and 
probably  the  friends  of  the  youth  who  was  discovered 
had  thought  it  best  to  keep  his  existence  quiet,  being 
of  those  who  would  give  David  no  credit  for  higher 
principles  than  were  current  between  rival  dynasties. 
Even  Michal,  Jonathan's  sister,  does  not  seem  to  have 
known  that  a  son  of  his  survived.  It  became  necessary, 
therefore,  to  make  a  public  inquiry  of  his  officers  and 
attendants.     "  Is  there  yet  any  that  is  left  of  the  house 


ix.]  DAVID  AND  MEPHIBOSHETH.  135 


of  Saul,  that  I  may  show  him  kindness  for  Jonathan's 
sake  ?  "     It  was  not  essential  that  he  should  be  a  child 

of  Jonathan's ;   any  descendant  of  Saul's  would  have  | 

been  taken  for  Jonathan's  sake.  % 

It  is  a  proof  that  the  bloody  wars  in  which  he  had  | 

been  engaged  had  not  destroyed  the  tenderness  of  his  \ 

heart,  that  the  very  chapter  which  follows  the  account  \ 

of  his  battles  opens  with  a  yearning   of  affection — a  } 

longing  for  an  outlet   to  feelings  of  kindness.      It  is  | 

instructive,  too,  to  find  the  proof  of  love  to  his  neighbour  j 

succeeding  the  remarkable  evidence  of  supreme  regard  1 

to  the  honour  of  God  recently  given   in  the  proposal  L 

to  build  a  temple.     This  period  of  David's  life  was  its  f 

golden  era,  and  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  the  ^j 

man  that  was  so  remarkable  at  this  time  for  his  regard  \ 

for  God  and  his  interest  in  his  neighbour  should  soon  | 

afterwards  have  been  betrayed  into  a  course  of  conduct  f 

that  showed  him  most  grievously  forgetful  of  both.  \ 

This   proceeding   of   David's  in  making  inquiry  for  \ 

a  fit  object  of  beneficence  may  afford  us  a  lesson  as  ! 

to  the  true  course  of  enlightened  kindness.     Doubtless  \ 

David   had  numberless   persons  applying  for  a  share  \ 
of  his  bounty ;  yet  he  makes  inquiry  for  a  new  channel 

in  which  it  may  flow.     The  most  clamorous  persons  are  | 

seldom    the-  most    deserving,   and  if  a   bountiful   man  % 

simply  recognises,  however  generously,  even  the  best  | 
of  the  cases   that  press  themselves  on  his  notice,  he 
will  not  be  satisfied  with  the  result ;  he  will  feel  that 

his  bounty  has    rather    been    frittered    away  on   mis-  ? 

cellaneous  undertakings,  than  that  it  has  achieved  any  j 
solid  and  satisfying  result.     It  is  easy  for  a  rich  man 
to  fling  a  pittance  to  some  wretched-looking  creature 

that  whines  out  a  tale  of  horror  in  his  ear;  but  this  | 

may  be  done  only  to  relieve  his  own  feelings,  and  harm  | 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


instead    of    good    may    be    the    result.       Enlightened 
benevolence  aims  at  something  higher  than  the  mere 
relief  of  passing  distress.     Benevolent  men  ought  not 
to  lie  at  the  mercy  either  of  the  poor  who  ask  their 
charity,  or  of  the  philanthropic  Christians  who  appeal 
for  support   to   their  schemes.      Pains  must  be  taken 
to  find  out  the  deserving,  to  find  out  those  who  have 
the   strongest    claim.      Even  the  open-handed,  whose 
purse  is  always  at  hand,  and  who  are  ready  for  every 
good  work,  may  be  neglecting  some  case  or  class  of 
cases  which   have   far   stronger  claims   on   them  than 
those  which  are  so  assiduously  pressed  on  their  notice. 
And  hence  we  may  see  that  it  is  right  and  fitting, 
especially    in    those    to    whom    Providence    has    given 
much,  to  cast  over  in  their  minds,  from  time  to  time, 
the    state    of    their    obHgations,    and    think    whether 
among   old   friends,  or  poor  relations,   or  faithful    but 
needy  servants  of  God,  there  may  not  be  some  who 
have  a  claim  on  their  bounty.     There  are  other  debts 
besides  money  debts  it  becomes  you  to  look  after.     In 
youth,    perhaps,    you    received    much    kindness    from 
friends  and  relatives  which  at  the  time  you  could  not 
repay ;  but  now  the  tables  are  turned ;  you  are  pros- 
perous,  they  or  their  families  are  needy.     And  these 
cases  are   apt   to  slip  out  of  mind.      It  is  not  always 
hard-heartedness  that  makes  the  prosperous  forget  the 
less  fortunate ;  it  is  often  utter  thoughtlessness.     It  is 
the  neglect  of  that  rule  which   has   such  a  powerful 
though  silent  effect  when  it  is  carried  out — Put  yourself 
in  their  place.     Imagine  how  you  would  feel,  strained 
and  worried   to   sleeplessness  through    narrow  means, 
and  seeing  old  friends  rolling   in  wealth,  who  might, 
with  little  or  no  inconvenience,  lighten  the  burden  that 
is  crushing  you  so  painfully.     It  is  a  strange  thing  that 


DAVID  AND   MEPHIBOSHETH.  137 


this  counsel  should  be  more  needed  by  the  rich  than  ( 

by  the    poor.      Thoughtlessness  regarding  his  neigh-  | 

hours  is  not  a  poor  man's  vice.     The  empty  house  is  \ 

remembered,  even  though  it  costs  a  sacrifice  to  send  \ 

it  a  little  of  his  own  scanty  supplies.     Few  men  are  | 

so    hardened    as    not    to   feel   the    obligation    to    show  | 

kindness  when  that  obligation  is  brought  before  them.  j 

What  we  urge  is,  that  no  one  should  lie  at  the  mercy 
of  others  for  bringing  his  obligations  before  him.  Let 
him  think  for  himself;  and  especially  let  him  cast  his 
eye    round    his    own    horizon,    and    consider   whether  | 

there  be  not   some  representatives   of  old  friends  or  [ 

old  relations  to  whom  kindness  ought  to  be  shown.  \ 

To     return    to     the     narrative.       The     history     of  \ 

Mephibosheth,  Jonathan's    son,   had  been    a  sad    one.  | 

When   Israel  was  defeated  by  the  Philistines  on  Mount  \ 

Gilboa,  and  Saul  and  Jonathan  were  slain,  he  was  but  \ 

an  infant ;  and  his  nurse,  terror-stricken  at  the  news  \ 

of  the  disaster,  in  her  haste  to  escape  had  let  him  fall,  i 

and  caused  an   injury  which  made  him  lame  for  Hfe.  I 

What  the  manner  of  his  upbringing  was,  we  are  not  | 

told.      When   David  found   him,    he    was    Hving   with  \ 

Machir,  the  son  of  Ammiel,  of  Lo-debar,  on  the  other  ^ 

side    of  the   Jordan,    in    the    same    region  where    his  | 

uncle  Ishbosheth    had    tried    to    set    up  his    kingdom.  \ 

Mephibosheth  became  known  to  David  through  Ziba, 
a  servant  of  Saul's,  a  man  of  more  substance  than 
principle,  as  his  conduct  showed  at  a  later  period 
of  his  Hfe.  Ziba,  we  are  told,  had  fifteen  sons  and 
twenty  servants.  He  seems  to  have  contrived  to  make 
himself  comfortable  notwithstanding  the  wreck  of  his 
master's  fortunes,  more  comfortable  than  Mephibo- 
sheth, who  was  living  in  another  man's  house. 

There  seems  to  have  been  a  surmise  among  David's 


13S  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

people  that  this  Ziba  could  tell  something  of  Jona- 
than's family ;  but  evidently  he  was  not  very  ready 
to  do  so ;  for  it  v^as  only  to  David  himself  that  when 
sent  for  he  gave  the  information,  and  that  after  David 
had  emphatically  stated  his  motive — not  to  do  harm, 
but  to  show  kindness  for  Jonathan's  sake.  The 
existence  of  Mephibosheth  being  thus  made  known, 
he  is  sent  for  and  brought  into  David's  presence.  And 
we  cannot  but  be  sorry  for  him  when  we  mark  his 
abject  bearing  in  the  presence  of  the  king.  When  he 
was  come  unto  David,  "he  fell  on  his  face  and  did 
reverence,"  And  when  David  explained  his  intentions, 
"  he  bowed  himself  and  said.  What  is  thy  servant,  that 
thou  shouldest  look  on  such  a  dead  dog  as  I  am  ? " 
Naturally  of  a  timid  nature,  and  weakened  in  nerve 
by  the  accident  of  his  infancy,  he  must  have  grown 
up  under  great  disadvantages.  His  lameness  excluded 
him  from  sharing  in  any  youthful  game  or  manly 
exercise,  and  therefore  threw  him  into  the  company 
of  the  women  who,  like  him,  tarried  at  home.  What  he 
had  heard  of  David  had  not  come  through  a  friendly 
channel,  had  come  through  the  partisans  of  Saul, 
and  was  not  likely  to  be  very  favourable.  He  was  too 
young  to  remember  the  generous  conduct  of  David 
in  reference  to  his  father  and  grandfather ;  and  those 
who  were  about  him  probably  did  not  care  to  say  much 
about  it. 

Accustomed  to  think  that  his  wisest  course  was  to 
conceal  from  David  his  very  existence,  and  looking  on 
him  with  the  dread  with  which  the  family  of  former 
kings  regarded  the  reigning  monarch,  he  must  have 
come  into  his  presence  with  a  strange  mixture  of 
feeling.  He  had  a  profound  sense  of  the  greatness 
which  David  had  achieved  and  the  honour  implied  in 


ix.]  DAVID  AND  MEPHIBOSHETH.  139 

his    countenance   and    fellowship.     But    there    was   no 
need  for  his  humbling  himself  so  low.     There  was  no 
need  for  his  calling  himself  a  dog,  a  dead  dog, — the 
most  humihating  image  it  was  possible  to  find.     We 
should  have  thought  him  more  worthy  of  his  father  if, 
recognizing  the  high  position  which  David  had  attained 
by  the  grace  of  God,  he  had  gracefully  thanked  him  for 
the  regard  shown  to   his  father's  memory,  and  shown 
more  of  the  self-respect  which  was  due  to  Jonathan's 
son.     In  his  subsequent  conduct,  in  the  days  of  David's 
calamity,    Mephibosheth   gave   evidence   of    the   same 
disinterested  spirit  which  had  shone  so  beautifully  in 
Jonathan,    but   his    noble   quahties   were   like  a   light 
twinkling  among  ruins  or  a  jewel  glistening  in  a  wreck. 
This   shattered   condition  both   of  mind  and    body, 
however,  commended  him  all  the  more  to  the  friendly 
regard  of  David.     Had  he  shown  himself  a  high-minded, 
ambitious  youth,  David  might  have  been  embarrassed 
how   to  act   towards   him.     Finding  him   modest  and 
espectful,  he  had  no  difficulty  in  the  case.     The  kind- 
xiess  which  he  showed  him  was  twofold.     In  the  first 
place,  he  restored  to  him  all  the  land  that  had  belonged 
to  his  grandfather ;  and  in  the  second  place,  he  made 
him  an  inmate  of  his  own  house,  with  a  place  at  his 
table,  the  same  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  his  own  sons. 
And   that  he  might  not   be  embarrassed  with  having 
the  land  to  care  for,  he  committed  the  charge  of  it  to 
Ziba,  who  was  to  bring  to  Mephibosheth  the  produce 
or  its  value. 

Every  arrangement  was  thus  made  that  could  con- 
duce to  his  comfort.  His  being  a  cripple  did  not 
deprive  him  of  the  honour  of  a  place  at  the  royal  table, 
little  though  he  could  contribute  to  the  lustre  of  the 
palace.     For  David  bestowed  his  favours  not  on   the 


140  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

principle  of  trying  to  reflect  lustre  on  himself  or  his 
house,  but  on  the  principle  of  doing  good  to  those  who 
had  a  claim  on  his  consideration.  The  lameness  and 
consequent  awkwardness,  that  would  have  made  many 
a  king  ashamed  of  such  an  inmate  of  his  palace  only 
recommended  him  the  more  to  David.  Regard  for 
outward  appearances  was  swallowed  up  by  a  higher 
regard — regard  for  what  w^as  right  and  true. 

It  might  be  thought  by  some  that  such  an  incident 
as  this  was  hardly  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  sacred 
record ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  David  seldom  showed 
more  of  the  true  spirit  of  God  than  he  did  on  this 
occasion.  The  feeling  that  led  him  to  seek  out  any 
stray  member  of  the  house  in  order  to  show  kindness 
to  him  was  the  counterpart  of  that  feeling  that  has  led 
God  from  the  very  beginning  to  seek  the  children  of 
men,  and  that  led  Jesus  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost.  For  that  is  truly  the  attitude  in  which  God 
has  ever  placed  Himself  towards  our  fallen  race.  The 
sight  to  be  seen  in  this  world  has  not  been  that  of  men 
seeking  after  God,  but  that  of  God  seeking  after  men. 
All  day  long  He  has  been  stretching  forth  His  hands, 
and  inviting  the  children  of  men  to  taste  and  see  that 
He  is  gracious.  If  we  ask  for  the  principle  that  unifies 
all  parts  of  the  Bible,  it  is  this  gracious  attitude  of  God 
towards  those  who  have  forfeited  His  favour.  The 
Bible  presents  to  us  the  sight  of  God's  Spirit  striving 
with  men,  persevering  in  the  thankless  work  long 
after  He  has  been  resisted,  and  ceasing  only  when  all 
hope  of  success  through  further  pleading  is  gone. 

There  were  times  when  this  process  was  prosecuted 
with  more  than  common  ardour  ;  and  at  last  there  came 
a  time  when  the  Divine  pleadings  reached  a  climax,  and 
God,  who  at  sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners  spake 


ix.]  DAVID   AND   MEPHIBOSHETH.  141  i 

to  the  fathers  by  the  prophets,  spake  to  them  at  last  by  | 

His  own  Son.     And  what  was  the  Hfe  of  Jesus  Christ  \ 

but  a  constant  appeal  to  men,  in  God's  name,  to  accept  ^ 

the   kindness    which   God   was   eager   to  show  them  ?  \ 

Was  not  His  invitation  to  all  that  laboured  and  were  | 

heavy  laden,  ''  Come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest  "  ?  ^• 

Did   He   not    represent   the   Father  as    a  householder,  \ 

making  a  marriage  feast  for  his  son,  sending  forth  his  I 

servants  to  bid  the  guests  to  the  wedding,  and  when  j 

the  natural  guests  refused,  bidding  them  go  to  the  high-  | 

ways  and  the  hedges,  and  fetch  the  lame  and  the  blind  ' 

and  any  outcast  they  could  find,  because  he  longed  to  1 

see  guests  of  some  kind  enjoying  the  good  things  he  \ 

had  provided  ?     The  great  crime  of  the  ancient  Jews  \ 

was  rejecting  Him  who  had  come  in  the  name  of  the  | 

Lord  to   bless    them.      Their   crowning    condemnation  | 

was,  not   that  they  had  failed  to  keep  the  Ten  Com-  I 

mandments,  though  that  was  true  ;  not  that  they  had  \ 

spent    their    lives   in    pleasing    themselves   instead    of  [ 

pleasing  God,  though  that  also  was  true  ;  but  that  they 

had  rejected  God's  unspeakable  gift,  and  requited  the  I 

Eternal  Son,  when  He  came  from  heaven  to  bless  them,  i 

with  the  cursed  death  of  the  cross.     But  even  after  they  \ 

had  committed  that  act  of  unprecedented  wickedness,  I 

God's  face  would  not  be  wholly  turned  away  from  them.  | 

The  very  attitude  in  which  Jesus  died,  with  His  hands  \ 

outstretched  on  the  tree,  would  still  represent  the  attitude  | 

of  the  Divine  heart  towards  the  very  murderers  of  His  \ 

Son.     ''  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men  toward 

Me."     ''  Unto  you  first,  God,  having  raised  up  His  Son 

Jesus,   hath   sent   Him  to  bless  you,  in  turning  away 

every  one  of  you   from  his  iniquities."      "  Repent  ye, 

therefore,   and  be  converted,   that   your   sins   may  be 

blotted  out." 


142  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  \ 

Here,  my  friends,  is    the  most   glorious   feature    of  ; 

the  Christian  rehgion.     Happy  those  of  you  who  have  ; 

apprehended  this  attitude  of  your  most  gracious  Father,  | 

who  have  beheved  in  His  love,  and  who  have  accepted  ' 

His  grace  !     For  not  only  has  God  received  you  back  j 

into  His  family,  and  given  you  a  name  and  a  place  in  | 

His  temiple  better  than  that  of  sons  and  daughters,  but  I 

He   has   restored   to  you  your   lost   inheritance.     ''  If  { 

children,  then  heirs,  heirs  of  God  and  joint  heirs  with  | 

Jesus  Christ."    Nay,  more.  He  has  not  only  restored  to  | 

you  your  lost  inheritance,  but  He  has  conferred  on  you  ! 
an   inheritance  more  glorious  than   that  of  which  sin 

deprived  you.     ^'  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  ; 

Lord   Jesus  Christ,  who    according    to   His   abundant  • 

mercy  hath  begotten  us  again  unto  a  lively  hope  through  | 

the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead,  to   an  | 
inheritance  incorruptible,  and  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth 

not  away,  reserved  in  heaven  for  you,  who  are  kept  by  , 

the  power  of  God  through  faith  unto  salvation,  ready  ; 

to  be  revealed  in  the  last  day."  i 

But  if  the  grace  of  God  in  thus  stretching  out  His 

hands  to  sinful  men  and  offering  them  all  the  blessings  \ 

of  salvation    is  very  wonderful,  it  makes    the  case  of  \ 

those  all  the  more  terrible,  all  the  more  hopeless,  who  j 

treat  His  invitations  with  indifference,  and  turn  their  I 

backs  on  an  inheritance  the  glory  of  which  they  do  not  \ 

see.     How  men  should  be  so  infatuated  as  to  do  this  it  j 

were  hard  to  understand,  if  we  had  not  ample  evidence  { 

of  it  in  the  godless  tendencies  of  our  natural  hearts.  I 

Still  more  mysterious    is    it    to    understand    how  God  | 

should  fail  to  carry  His  point  in  the  case  of  those  to  i 

whom  He  stretches  out  His  hands.     But  of  all  con-  j 

siderations  there  is   none  more  fitted  to  astonish  and  j 

alarm  the  careless  than  that  they  are  capable  of  refusing  | 


DAVID  AND   MEPHIBOSHETII.  143 


all  the  appeals  of  Divine  love,  and  rejecting  all  the 
bounty  of  Divine  grace.  If  this  be  persevered  in,  what 
a  rude  awakening  you  will  have  in  the  world  to  come, 
when  in  all  the  bitterness  of  remorse  you  will  think 
on  the  glories  that  were  once  within  your  reach,  but 
with  which  you  trifled  when  you  had  the  chance ! 
How  foolish  would  Mephibosheth  have  been  if  he  had 
disbelieved  in  David's  kindness  and  rejected  his  offer ! 
But  David  was  sincere,  and  Mephibosheth  believed  in 
his  sincerity.  May  we  not,  must  we  not,  believe  that 
God  is  sincere  ?  If  a  purpose  of  kindness  could  arise 
in  a  human  heart,  how  much  more  in  the  Divine  heart, 
how  much  more  in  the  heart  of  Him  the  very  essence 
of  whose  nature  is  conveyed  to  us  in  the  words  of  the 
beloved  disciple — "  God  is  love  "  ! 

There  is  yet  another  application  to  be  made  of  this 
passage  in  David's  history.  We  have  seen  how  it 
exemplifies  the  duty  incumbent  on  us  all  to  consider 
whether  kindness  is  not  due  from  us  to  the  friends  or 
the  relatives  of  those  who  have  been  helpful  to  our- 
selves. This  remark  is  not  applicable  merely  to  tem- 
poral obligations,  but  also,  and  indeed  emphatically,  to 
spiritual.  We  should  consider  ourselves  in  debt  to 
those  who  have  conferred  spiritual  benefits  upon  us. 
Should  a  descendant  of  Luther  or  Calvin,  of  Latimer 
or  Cranmer  or  Knox,  appear  among  us  in  need  of 
kindness,  what  true  Protestant  would  not  feel  that  for 
what  he  owed  to  the  fathers  it  was  his  duty  to  show 
kindness  to  the  children  ?  But  farther  back  even  than 
this  was  a  race  of  men  to  whom  the  Christian  world 
lies  under  still  deeper  obligations.  It  was  the  race 
of  David  himself,  to  which  had  belonged  '^  Moses  and 
Aaron  among  His  priests,  Samuel  with  them  that  called 
on  His  name,"  and,  in  after-times,  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah, 


144  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

Ezekiel  and  Daniel ;  Peter,  and  James,  and  John,  and 
Paul ;  and,  outshining  them  all,  like  the  sun  of  heaven, 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  Saviour  of  men.  With  what 
models  of  lofty  piety  has  that  race  furnished  every 
succeeding  generation  !  From  the  study  of  their  holy 
lives,  their  soaring  faith,  their  burning  zeal,  what 
blessing  has  been  derived  in  the  past,  and  what  an 
impulse  will  yet  go  forth  to  the  very  end  of  time  !  No 
wonder  though  the  Apostle  had  great  sorrow  and  con- 
tinual heaviness  in  his  heart  when  he  thought  of  the 
faithless  state  of  the  people,  '^  to  whom  pertaineth  the 
adoption,  and  the  glory,  and  the  covenants,  and  the 
giving  of  the  law,  and  the  service  of  God  "  !  Yet  none 
are  more  in  need  of  your  friendly  remembrance  at  this 
day  than  the  descendants  of  these  men.  It  becomes 
you  to  ask,  "  Is  there  yet  any  that  is  left  of  their  house 
to  whom  we  may  show  kindness  for  Jesus'  sake  ?  "  For 
God  has  not  finally  cast  them  off,  and  Jesus  has  not 
ceased  to  care  for  those  who  were  His  brethren  accord- 
ing to  the  flesh.  If  there  were  no  other  motive  to 
induce  us  to  seek  the  good  of  the  Jews,  this  considera- 
tion should  surely  prevail.  Ill  did  the  world  requite 
its  obligation  during  the  long  ages  when  all  manner  of 
contumely  and  injustice  was  heaped  upon  the  Hebrew 
race,  as  if  Jesus  had  never  prayed,  ''  Father,  forgive 
them ;  they  know  not  what  they  do."  Their  treatment 
by  the  Gentiles  has  been  so  harsh  that,  even  when 
better  feelings  prevail,  they  are  slow,  like  Mephibosheth, 
— to  believe  that  we  mean  them  well.  They  may  have 
done  much  to  repel  our  kindness,  and  they  may  appear 
to  be  hopelessly  encrusted  with  unbelief  in  Him  whom 
we  present  as  the  Saviour.  But  charity  never  faileth  ; 
and  in  reference  to  them  as  to  other  objects  of  philan- 
thropic effort,  the  exhortation  holds  good,  "  Let  us  not 


ix.]  DAVID  AND   MEPHIBOSHETFI.  1+5 

be  weary  in    well-doing;    for   in  due  season  we  shail 
reap  if  we  faint  not." 

Such  kindness  to  those  who  are  in  need  is  not  only 
a  duty  of  religion,  but  tends  greatly  to  commend  it. 
Neglect  of  those  who  have  claims  on  us,  while  objects 
more  directly  religious  are  eagerly  prosecuted,  is  not 
pleasing  to  God,  whether  the  neglect  take  place  in  our 
lives  or  in  the  destination  of  our  substance  at  death. 
''  Give,  and  it  shall  be  given  unto  you  :  good  me  insure, 
pressed  down  and  shaken  together  and  running  over, 
shall  men  give  into  your  bosom.  For  with  the  same 
measure  that  ye  mete  withal,  it  shall  be  measured  to 
you  again." 


VOL.    11.  01 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

DAVID  AND  HA  NUN, 
2  Samuel  x. 

POWERFUL  though  David  had  proved  himself  in 
every  direction  in  the  art  of  war,  his  heart  was 
incHned  to  peace.  A  king  who  had  been  victorious 
over  so  many  foes  had  no  occasion  to  be  afraid  of  a 
people  like  the  Ammonites.  It  could  not  have  been 
from  fear  therefore  that,  when  Nahash  the  king  of  the 
Ammonites  died,  David  resolved  to  send  a  friendly 
message  to  his  son.  Not  the  least  doubt  can  be  thrown 
on  the  statement  of  the  history  that  what  moved  him 
to  do  this  was  a  grateful  remembrance  of  the  kindness 
which  he  had  at  one  time  received  from  the  late  king. 
The  position  which  he  had  gained  as  a  warrior  would 
naturally  have  made  Hanun  more  afraid  of  David  than 
David  could  be  of  Hanun.  The  king  of  Israel  could 
not  have  failed  to  know  this,  and  it  might  naturally 
occur  to  him  that  it  would  be  a  kindly  act  to  the  young 
king  of  Ammon  to  send  him  a  message  that  showed 
that  he  might  thoroughly  rely  on  his  friendly  intentions. 
The  message  to  Hanun  was  another  emanation  of  a 
kindly  heart.  If  there  was  anything  of  policy  in  it, 
it  was  the  policy  of  one  who  felt  that  so  many  things 
are  continually  occurring  to  set  nations  against  one 
another  as  to  make  it  most  desirable  to  improve  every 
opportunity  of  drawing  them  closer  together. 


X.]  DAVID  AND   HANUN.  147 

It  is  a  happy  thing  for  any  country  when  its  rulers 
and  men  of  influence  are  ever  on  the  watch  for  oppor- 
tunities to  strengthen  the  spirit  of  friendship.  It  is  a 
happy  thing  in  the  Church  when  the  leaders  of  different 
sections  are  more  disposed  to  measures  that  conciliate 
and  heal  than  to  measures  that  alienate  and  divide. 
In  family  life,  and  wherever  men  of  different  views  and 
different  tempers  meet,  this  peace-loving  spirit  is  of 
great  price.  Men  that  like  fighting,  and  that  are 
ever  disposed  to  taunt,  to  irritate,  to  divide,  are  the 
nuisances  of  society.  Men  that  deal  in  the  soft  answer, 
in  the  message  of  kindness,  and  in  the  prayer  of  love, 
deserve  the  respect  and  gratitude  of  all. 

It  is  a  remarkable  thing  that,  of  all  the  nations  that 
were  settled  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Israelites,  the 
only  one  that  seemed  desirous  to  live  on  friendly  terms 
with  them  was  that  of  Tyre.  Even  those  who  were 
related  to  them  by  blood, — Edomites,  Midianites, 
Moabites,  Ammonites, — were  never  cordial,  and  often  at 
open  hostility.  Though  their  rights  had  been  carefully 
respected  by  the  Israelites  on  their  march  from  Sinai 
to  Palestine,  no  feeling  of  cordial  friendship  was 
established  with  any  of  them.  None  of  them  were 
impressed  even  so  much  as  Balaam  had  been,  when 
in  language  so  beautiful  he  blessed  the  people  whom 
God  had  blessed.  None  of  them  threw  in  their  lot 
with  Israel,  in  recognition  of  their  exalted  spiritual 
privileges,  as  Hobab  and  his  people  had  done  near 
Mount  Sinai.  Individuals,  like  Ruth  the  Moabitess, 
had  learned  to  recognise  the  claims  of  Israel's  God  and 
the  privileges  of  the  covenant,  but  no  entire  nation  had 
ever  shown  even  an  inclination  to  such  a  course.  These 
neighbouring  nations  continued  therefore  to  be  fitting 
symbols   of  that  world-power   which  has  so  generally 


148  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

been  found  in  antagonism  to  the  people  of  God.  Israel 
while  they  continued  faithful  to  God  were  like  the  lily 
among  thorns ;  and  Israel's  king,  like  Him  whom  he 
typified,  was  called  to  rule  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies. 
The  friendship  of  the  surrounding  world  cannot  be  the 
ordinary  lot  of  the  faithful  servant,  otherwise  the  Apostle 
would  not  have  struck  such  a  loud  note  of  warning. 
"  Ye  adulterers  and  adulteresses,  know  ye  not  that  the 
friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  wi  h  God  ?  Whoso- 
ever, therefore,  would  be  the  friend  of  the  world  is  the 
enemy  of  God." 

Between  the  Ammonites  and  the  Israelites  collisions 
had  occurred  on  two  former  occasions,  on  both  ot 
which  the  Ammonites  appear  to  have  been  the 
aggressors.  The  former  of  these  was  in  the  days 
of  Jephthah.  The  defeat  of  the  Ammonites  at  that 
time  was  very  thorough,  and  probably  unexpected,  and, 
like  other  defeats  of  the  same  kind,  it  no  doubt  left 
feelings  of  bitter  hatred  rankling  in  the  breasts  of 
the  defeated  party.  The  second  was  the  coUision  at 
Jabesh-gilead  at  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Saul. 
The  king  of  the  Ammonites  showed  great  ferocity  and 
cruelty  on  that  occasion.  When  the  men  of  Jabesh, 
brought  to  bay,  begged  terms  of  peace,  the  bitter 
answer  was  returned  that  it  would  be  granted  only  on 
condition  that  every  man's  right  eye  should  be  put  out. 
It  was  then  that  Saul  showed  such  courage  and 
promptitude.  In  the  briefest  space  he  was  at  Jabesh- 
gilead  in  defence  of  his  people,  and  by  his  successful 
tactics  inflicted  on  the  Ammonites  a  tearible  defeat, 
killing  a  great  multitude  and  scattering  the  remainder, 
so  that  not  any  two  of  them  were  left  together.  Men 
do  not  like  to  have  a  prize  plucked  from  their  hands 
when  they  are  on  the  eve  of  enjoying  it.     After  such 


X.]  DAVID  AND  HANUN.  149 

a  defeat,  Nahash  could  not  have  very  friendly  feelings 
to  Saul.  And  when  Saul  proclaimed  David  his  enemy, 
Nahash  would  naturally  incline  to  David's  side.  There 
is    no    record    of  the    occasion    on    which    he    showed  \ 

kindness  to   him,  but   in  all    likelihood  it  was  at    the  I 

time  when  he  was  in  the  wilderness,  hiding  from  Saul.  \ 

If,  when  David  was  near  the  head  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  \ 

therefore  not  very  far  from  the  land  of  the  Ammonites, 
or  from  places  where  they  had  influence,  Nahash  sent 
him  any  supplies  for  his  men,  the  gift  would  be  very 
opportune,  and  there  could  be  no  reason  why  David 
should  not  accept  of  it.  Anyhow,  the  act  of  kindness, 
whatever  it  was,  made  a  strong  impression  on  his 
heart.  It  was  long,  long  ago  when  it  happened,  but 
love  has  a    long  memory,  and  the  remembrance  of   it  \ 

was  still  pleasant  to  David.  And  now  the  king  of 
Israel  purposes  to  repay  to  the  son  the  debt  he  had 
incurred  to  the  father.  Up  to  this  point  it  is  a  pretty 
picture ;  and  it  is  a  great  disappointment  when  we 
find  the  transaction  miscarry,  and  a  negotiation  which 
began  in  all  the  warmth  and  sincerity  of  friendship 
terminate  in  the  wild  work  of  war. 

The  fault  of  this  miscarriage,  however,  was  glaringly 
on  the  other  side.  Hanun  was  a  young  king,  and  it 
would  only  have  been  in  accordance  with  the  frank 
and  unsuspecting  spirit  of  youth  had  he  received 
David's  communication  with  cordial  pleasure,  and 
returned  to  it  an  answer  in  the  same  spirit  in  which 
it  was  sent.  But  his  counsellors  were  of  another  mind. 
They  persuaded  their  master  that  the  pretext  of 
comforting  him  on  the  death  of  his  father  was  a  hollow 
one,  and  that  David  desired  nothing  but  to  spy  out  the 
city  and  the  country,  with  a  view  to  bring  them  under 
his  dominion.     It  is  hard  to  suppose  that  they  really 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


believed  this.  It  was  they,  not  David,  that  wished  a 
pretext  for  going  to  war.  And  having  got  something 
that  by  evil  ingenuity  might  be  perverted  to  this 
purpose,  they  determined  to  treat  it  so  that  it  should 
be  impossible  for  David  to  avoid  the  conflict.  Hanun 
appears  to  have  been  a  weak  prince,  and  to  have 
yielded  to  their  counsels.  Our  difficulty  is  to  under- 
stand how  sane  men  could  have  acted  in  such  a  way. 
The  determination  to  provoke  war,  and  the  insolence 
of  their  way  of  doing  it,  appear  so  like  the  freaks 
of  a  madman,  that  we  cannot  comprehend  how 
reasonable  men  should  in  cold  blood  have  even 
dreamt  of  such  proceedings.  Perhaps  at  this  early 
period  they  had  an  understanding  with  those  Syrians 
that  afterwards  came  to  their  aid,  and  thought  that  on 
the  strength  of  this  they  could  afford  to  be  insolent. 
The  combined  force  which  they  could  bring  into  the 
field  would  be  such  as  to  make  even  David  tremble. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  a  word  to  bring  out  the 
outrageous  character  of  their  conduct.  First,  there 
was  the  repulse  of  David's  kindness.  It  was  not  even 
declined  with  civility ;  it  was  repelled  with  scorn.  It  is 
always  a  serious  thing  to  reject  overtures  of  kindness. 
Even  the  friendly  salutations  of  dumb  animals  are  en- 
titled to  a  friendly  return,  and  the  man  that  returns  the 
caresses  of  his  dog  wdth  a  kick  and  a  curse  is  a  greater 
brute  than  the  animal  that  he  treats  so  unworthily. 
Kindness  is  too  rare  a  gem  to  be  trampled  under  foot. 
Even  though  it  should  be  mistaken  kindness,  though 
the  form  it  takes  should  prove  an  embarrassment 
rather  than  a  help,  a  good  man  will  appreciate  the 
motive  that  prompted  it,  and  will  be  careful  not  to  hurt 
the  feelings  of  those  who,  though  they  have  blundered, 
meant  him  well.     None  are  more  liable  to  make  mis- 


X.]  DAVID  AND  HAN  UN.  151 


takes    than    young    children    in    their    Httle    efforts    to  I 

please  ;  meaning  to  be  kind,  they  sometimes  only  give  | 

trouble.     The  parent  that  gives  way  to  irritation,  and  \ 

meets  this  with  a  volley  of  scolding,  deals  cruelly  with  I 

the    best    and    tenderest    part    of    the    child's    nature.  | 

There  are  few  things  more  deserving  to  be  attended  to  f 

through  life  than  the  habit  not  only  of  appreciating  little  \ 

kindnesses,    but    showing    that   you    appreciate    them.  | 

How  much  more    sweetly   might    the    current    run    in  ! 
social  life  if  this  were  universally  attended  to! 

But  Hanun  not  only  repelled  David's  kindness,  but  i 

charged  him  with  meanness,  and  virtually  flung  in  his  \ 

face    a  challenge    to  war.     To  represent  his  apparent  | 

kindness  as  a  mean  cover  of  a  hostile  purpose  was  an  \ 

act  which  Hanun  might  think  little  of,  but  which  was  ^ 

fitted    to    wound    David    to   the  quick.     Unscrupulous  | 

natures    have  a   great    advantage    over    others   in  the  \ 

charges  they  may  bring.     In  a  street  collision  a  man  \ 

in    dirty  clothing  is  much  more  povv-erful  for  mischief  | 

than  one  in  clean  raiment.     Rough,  unscrupulous  men  | 

are  restrained  by  no  delicacy  from  bringing  atrocious  | 

charges    against    those    to    whom    these    charges    are  \ 

supremely  odious.     They  have  little  sense  of  the  sin  of  t- 

them,  and  they  toss  them  about  without  scruple.     Such  \ 

poisoned    arrows    inflict    great    pain,  not    because    the  | 

charges  are  just,  but  because  it  is  horrible  to  refined  | 

natures  even  to  hear  them.     There  are  two  things  that  | 

make    some    men    very    sensitive— the    refinement    of  | 

grace,  and  the  refinement  of  the  spirit  of  courtesy.  [ 
The  refinement  of  grace  makes  all  sin  odious,  and 
makes  a  charge  of  gross  sin  very  serious.  The  refine- 
ment of  courtesy  creates  great  regard  to  the  feelings  of 
others,  and  a  strong  desire  not  to  wound  them  unneces- 
sarily.      In  circles  where  real  courtesy  prevails,  accu- 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


sations  against  others  are  commonly  couched  in  very 
gentle    language.     Rough  natures    ridicule  this    spirit, 

and    pride   themselves    on    their    honesty  in    calHng  a  I 

spade   a   spade.      Evidently    Hanun   belonged    to    the  \ 

rough,  unscrupulous  school.     Either  he  did  not  know  I 

how  it  would  make  David  writhe  to  be  accused  of  the  \ 

alleged  meanness,  or,  if  he  did  know,  he  enjoyed  the  j 

spectacle.     It   gratified  his  insolent  nature  to  see  the  \ 

pious    king  of   Israel  posing  before    all  the    people  of  ! 

Ammon  as  a  sneak  and  a  har,  and  to  hear  the  laugh  of  \ 

scorn  and  hatred  resounding  on  every  side.  | 

To  these  offences  Hanun  added  yet  another — scorn-  : 

ful  treatment  of  David's  ambassadors.     In  the  eyes  of  | 

all  civilized  nations  the  persons  of  ambassadors  were  | 

held  sacred,  and    any  affront    or   injury  to    them  was  i 

counted  an  odious  crime.     Very  often  men  of  eminent  I 
position,    venerable    age,    and    unblemished    character 
were  chosen  for  this  function,  and  it  is  quite  Hkely  that 

David's   ambassadors    to    Hanun   were   of  this   class.  \ 
When   therefore    these   men    were   treated   with   con- 
tumely— half  their   beards,   which  were   in   a  manner 

sacred,  shorn  away,  their  garments  mutilated,  and  their  ; 

persons  exposed — no  grosser  insult  could  have  been  in-  ! 

flicted.    When  the  king  and  his  princes  were  the  authors  j 

of  this  treatment,  it  must   have  been  greatly  enjoyed  \ 

by  the  mass  of  the  people,  whose  coarse  glee  over  the  ; 
dishonoured  ambassadors  of  the  great  King  David  one 
can  easily  imagine.     It  is  a  painful  moment  when  true 
worth  and  nobiHty  lie  at  the  mercy  of  insolence  and 

coarseness,    and    have    to    bear   their    bitter   revilings.  i 

Such   things    may  happen    in  public   controversy  in  a  | 

country  where  the  utmost  Hberty  of  speech  is  allowed,  i 

and  when  men  of  ruffian  mould    find    contumely  and  j 

insult   their  handiest  weapons.     In  times  of  religious  | 


X.]  DAVID   AND  HANUN,  153 

persecution  the  most  frightful  charges  have  been  hurled 
at  the  heads  of  godly  men  and  women,  whose  real  crime 
is  to  have  striven  to  the  utmost  to  obey  God.  Oh,  how  \ 
much  need  there  is  of  patience  to  bear  insult  as  well  \ 
as  injury  !  And  insult  will  sometimes  rouse  the  temper  f 
that  injury  does  not  ruffle.  Oh  for  the  spirit  of  Christ,  \ 
who,  when  He  was  reviled,  reviled  not  again  !  f 

The  Ammonites  did  not  wait  for  a  formal  declaration         \ 
of  war    by  David.     Nor    did   they  flatter  themselves,         j 
when  they  came  to  their  senses,  that  against  one  who 
had  gained  such  renown  as  a  warrior  they  could  stand         [ 
alone.     Their  insult  to  King  Davi3  turned  out  a  costly         ; 
affair.     To  get  assistance  they  had  to  give  gold.     The         \ 
parallel  passage  in  Chronicles  gives  a  thousand  talents 
of  silver    as    the    cost    of   the    first    bargain  with    the         | 
Syrians.     These  Syrian  mercenaries  came  from  various         | 
districts — Beth-rehob,    Zoba,   Beth-maacah,    and    Tob.         I 
Some  of  these  had  already  been  subdued  by  David ;  in         | 
other  cases  there  was  apparently  no  previous  collision.         i 
But  all  of  them  no  doubt   smarted  under  the  defeats 
which  David  had  inflicted  either  on  them  or  on  their        \ 
neighbours,  and  when  a  large  subsidy  was  allotted  to 
them  to  begin  with,  in  addition  to  whatever  booty  might 
fall  to  their  share  if  David  should  be  subdued,  it  is  no 
great  wonder  that  an  immense  addition  was  made  to 
the  forces  of  the  Ammonites.     It  became  in  fact  a  very 
formidable  opposition ;  all  the  more  that  they  were  very 
abundantly   supplied   with   chariots    and    horsemen,  of 
which  arm  David  had  scarcely  any.     He  met  them  first 
by  sending  out  Joab  and  "all  the  host"  of  the  mighty 
men.     The  whole  resources  of  his  army  were  forwarded. 
And  when  Joab  came  to  the  spot,  he  found  that  he  had 
a    double  enemy  to  face.     The  Ammonite  army  came 
out  from  the  city  to  encounter  him,  while  the  Syrian 


154  THE  SECOND  BOOK   OF  SAMUEL, 

army  were  encamped  in  the  country,  ready  to  place  him 
between  two  fires  when  the  battle  began.  To  guard 
against  this,  Joab  divided  his  force  into  two.  The 
Syrian  host  was  the  more  formidable  body ;  therefore 
Joab  went  in  person  against  it,  at  the  head  of  a  select 
body  of  troops  chosen  from  the  general  army.  The 
command  of  the  remainder  was  given  to  his  brother 
Abishai,  who  was  left  to  deal  with  the  Ammonites.  If 
either  section  found  its  opponent  too  much  for  it,  aid 
was  to  be  given  by  the  other.  No  fault  can  be  found 
either  with  the  arrangements  made  by  Joab  for  the 
encounter  or  the  spirit  in  which  he  entered  on  the 
fight.  ''Be  of  good  courage,"  he  said  to  his  men,  "and 
let  us  play  the  men  for  our  people,  and  for  the  cities  of 
our  God ;  and  the  Lord  do  that  v/hich  seemeth  to  Him 
good."  It  was  just  such  an  exhortation  as  David  him- 
self might  have  given.  Some  were  trusting  in  chariots 
and  some  in  horses,  but  they  were  remembering  the 
name  of  the  Lord  their  God.  The  first  movement  was 
made  by  Joab  and  his  part  of  the  army  against  the 
Syrians ;  it  was  completely  successful ;  the  Syrians  fled 
before  him,  chariots  and  horsemen  and  all.  When  the 
Ammonite  army  saw  the  fate  of  the  Syrians  they  did 
not  even  hazard  a  conflict,  but  wheeled  about  and 
made  for  the  city.  Thus  ended  their  first  proud  effort 
to  sustain  and  complete  the  humiliation  of  King  David. 
The  hired  troops  on  which  they  had  leaned  so  much 
turned  out  utterly  untrustworthy ;  and  the  wretched 
Ammonites  found  themselves  minus  their  thousand 
talents,  without  victory,  and  without  honour. 

But  their  alHes  the  Syrians  were  not  disposed  to 
yield  without  another  conflict.  Determined  to  do  his 
utmost,  Hadarezer,  king  of  the  Syrians  of  Zobah,  sent 
across  the  Euphrates,  and  prevailed  on  their  neighbours 


X.]  DAVID   AND   HANUN,  155 


there  to  join  them  in  the  effort  to  crush  the  power  of  \ 

David.     That  a  very  large  number  of  these  Mesopota-  \ 

mian  Syrians  responded  to  the  invitation  of  Hadarezer  \ 

is  apparent  from   the  number  of  the    slain   (ver.    18).  | 

The  matter  assumed  so  serious  an  aspect  that  David  f 

himself  was  now  constrained  to  take  the  field,  at  the 
head  of  ''all  Israel."     The  Syrian  troops  were    com-  ; 

manded  by  Shobach,  who  appears  to  have  been  a 
distinguished  general.  It  must  have  been  a  death- 
struggle  between  the  Syrian  power  and  the  power  of 
David.  But  again  the  victory  was  with  the  Israelites, 
and  among  the  slain  were  the  men  of  seven  hundred 
chariots,  and  forty  thousand  horsemen  (i  Chron.  xix.  18,  \ 

"  footmen  "),  along  with  Shobach^  captain  of  the  Syrian  :' 

host.     It  must  have  been  a  most  decisive  victory,  for  % 

after  it  took  place  all  the  states  that  had  been  tributary  \ 

to   Hadarezer    transferred    their    allegiance    to    David.  f 

The    Syrian    power  was    completely    broken ;  all  help  I 

was  withdrawn  from  the  Ammonites,  who  were  now  J 

left  to  bear  the  brunt  of  their  quarrel  alone.     Single-  \ 

handed,   they  had  to  look  for  the  onset  of  the    army  ( 

which   had    so   remarkably    prevailed    against   all    the  \ 

power  of  Syria,  and  to  answer  to  King  David  for  the  \ 

outrage    they   had    perpetrated    on    his   ambassadors.  I 

Very  different  must  their  feelings  have  been  now  from  | 

the  time  when  they  began  to  negotiate  with  Syria,  and  \ 

when,  doubtless,  they  looked  forward  so  confidently  to  I 

the  coming  defeat  and  humiliation  of  King  David.  | 

It  requires  but  a  very  little  consideration  to  see  that  [ 

the  wars  which  are  so  briefly  recorded  in  this  chapter 
must  have  been  most  serious  and  perilous  undertakings. 
The  record  of  them  is  so  short,  so  unimpassioned,  so 
simple,  that  many  readers  are  disposed  to  think  very 
little  of  them.     But  when  we  pause  to  think  what  it 


156  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  ! 

was   for    the    king  of  Israel  to  meet,  on  foreign  soil, 
confederates  so  numerous,  so  powerful,  and  so  familiar 
with    warfare,    we    cannot    but    see    that    these    were     ' 
tremendous  wars.     They  were  fitted  to  try  the  faith  as     . 
well  as  the  courage  of  David  and  his  people  to  the  very     i 
utmost.     In  seeking  dates  for  those  psalms  that  picture     ; 
a  multitude   of  foes   closing    on   the  writer,    and   that 
record  the  exercises  of  his  heart,  from  the  insinuations      I 
of  fear  at  the  beginning  to  the  triumph  of  trust  and      \ 
peace    at    the    end,   we  commonly   think    only   of  two      | 
events    in    David's  life, — the  persecution    of  Saul  and      t 
the  insurrection  of  Absalom.     But  the  Psalmist  himself      j 
could   probably   have    enumerated   a  dozen    occasions 
when  his  danger  and  his  need  were  as  great  as  they 
were  then.     He  must  have  passed  through  the  same      ! 
experience  on  these  occasions  as  on  the  other  two ;  and 
the  language  of  the  Psalms  may  often  have  as  direct 
reference   to    the   former    as  to   the  latter.     We  may 
understand,  too,  how  the  destruction  of  enemies  became 
so  prominent  a  petition  in  his  prayers.     What  can  a 
general  desire   and  pray  for,  when  he  sees   a  hostile 
army,  like  a  great  engine  of  destruction,  ready  to  dash       1 
against  all  that  he  holds  dear,  but  that  the  engine  may       ; 
be   shivered,   deprived  of  all  power  of  doing  mischief      t 
— in  other  words,   that  the  army  may  be  destroyed  ?       \ 
The  imprecations  in  the   Book  of  Psalms  against  his       \ 
enemies  must   be  viewed  in  this  light.     The  military       j 
habit  of  the  Psalmist's  mind  made  him  think  only  of  the       1 
destruction  of  those  who,  in  opposing  him,  opposed  the 
cause  of  God.     It  ought  not  to  be  imputed  as  a  crime 
to  David  that   he  did  not  rise  high  above  a  soldier's        | 
feelings  ;  that  he  did  not  view  things  from  the  point  of       \ 
view  of  Christianity  ;  that  he  was  not  a  thousand  years        | 
in  advance  of  his  age.     The  one  outlet  from  the  frightful       | 


X.]                                DAVID  AND   HA  NUN.                               157  \ 

1 

danger  which  these  Syrian  hordes  brought  to  him  and  i 

his   people  was  that  they   should  be  destroyed.     Our  \ 

blessed  Lord  gave  men  another  view  when  He  said,  \ 

"  The  Son  of  man  is  come  not  to  destroy  men's  lives,  | 

but  to  save  them."     He  familiarised  us  with  other  modes  | 

of  conquest.'    When  He  appeared  to  Saul  on  the  way  to  | 

Damascus,  and  turned  the  persecutor  into  the  chief  of  I 

apostles.   He  showed  that   there  are  other  ways   than  i 
that  of  destruction  for  delivering  His  Church  from  its 

enemies.     "  I   send   thee    to   open    their    eyes,   and    to  j 

turn  them  from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  j 

of  Satan  unto  God."     This  commission  to  Saul  gives  us  ! 

reason  for  praying,  with  reference  to  the  most  clever  [ 

and  destructive  of  the  enemies  of  His  Church,  that  by  ;: 

His  Spirit  He  would  meet  them  too,  and  turn  them  | 

into  other  men.     And  not    until    this  line  of  petition  I 

has    been  exhausted  can  we  fall   back    in    prayer   on  ? 

David's    method.      Only    when    their   repentance    and  ; 

conversion  have  become  hopeless    are  we    entitled  to  | 

pray  God   to  destroy  the  grievous  wolves  that  work  i 

such  havoc  in  His  flock.  \ 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

DAVID    AND    URIAH, 
2  Samuel  xi. 

HOW  ardently  would  most,  if  not  ail  readers,  of 
the  life  of  David  have  wished  that  it  had  ended 
before  this  chapter  !  Its  golden  era  has  passed  away, 
and  what  remains  is  little  else  than  a  chequered  tale  of 
crime  and  punishment.  On  former  occasions,  under 
the  influence  of  strong  and  long-continued  temptations, 
we  have  seen  his  faith  give  way  and  a  spirit  of  dis- 
simulation appear;  but  these  were  like  spots  on  the 
sun,  not  greatly  obscuring  his  general  radiance.  What 
we  now  encounter  is  not  like  a  spot,  but  a  horrid 
eclipse;  it  is  not  like  a  mere  swelling  of  the  face,  but 
a  bloated  tumour  that  distorts  the  countenance  and 
drains  the  body  of  its  life-blood.  To  human  wisdom  it 
would  have  seemed  far  better  had  David's  life  ended 
now,  so  that  no  cause  might  have  been  given  for  the 
everlasting  current  of  jeer  and  joke  with  which  his  fall 
has  suppHed  the  infidel.  Often,  when  a  great  and  good 
man  is  cut  off"  in  the  midst  of  his  days  and  of  his  use- 
fulness, we  are  disposed  to  question  the  wisdom  of  the 
dispensation ;  but  when  we  find  ourselves  disposed 
to  wonder  whether  this  might  not  have  been  better 
in  the  case  of  David,  we  may  surely  acquiesce  in  the 
ways  of  God, 


xi.]  DAVID   AND    URIAH.  159 

If  the  composition  of  the  Bible  had  been  in  human 
hands  it  would  never  have  contained  such  a  chapter 
as  this.  There  is  something  quite  remarkable  in  the 
fearless  way  in  which  it  unveils  the  guilt  of  David ;  it 
is  set  forth  in  its  nakedness,  without  the  slightest 
attempt  either  to  palliate  or  to  excuse  it ;  and  the  only 
statement  in  the  whole  record  designed  to  characterise 
it  is  the  quiet  but  terrible  words  with  which  the 
chapter  ends — ''  But  the  thing  that  David  had  done 
displeased  the  Lord."  In  the  fearless  march  of  provi- 
dence we  see  many  a  proof  of  the  courage  of  God.  It 
is  God  alone  that  could  have  the  fortitude  to  place  in 
the  Holy  Book  this  foul  story  of  sin  and  shame.  He 
only  could  deliberately  encounter  the  scorn  which  it  has 
drawn  down  from  every  generation  of  ungodly  men, 
the  only  wise  God,  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning, 
who  can  rise  high  above  all  the  fears  and  objections  of 
short-sighted  men,  and  who  can  quiet  every  feeling  of 
uneasiness  on  the  part  of  His  children  with  the  sublime 
words,  ''  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God." 

The  truth  is,  that  though  David's  reputation  would 
have  been  brighter  had  he  died  at  this  point  of  his  career, 
the  moral  of  his  life,  so  to  speak,  would  have  been  less 
complete.    There  was  evidently  a  sensual  element  in  his 
nature,  as  there  is  in  so  many  men  of  warm,  emotional 
temperament ;    and  he  does  not  appear  to  have   been 
alive  to  the  danger  involved  in  it.     It  led  him  the  more 
readily  to  avail  himself  of  the  toleration  of  polygamy, 
I        and  to  increase  from  time  to  time  the  number  of  his 
■.         wives.     Thus  provision  was  made  for  the  gratification 
'         of  a  disorderly  lust,  which,  if  he  had  lived  like  Abra- 
ham or    Isaac,  would  have    been   kept  back   from    all 
lawless  excesses.     And  when  evil  desire  has  large  scope 
for  its  exercise,  instead  of  being  satisfied  it  becomes 


i6o  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

more  greedy  and  more  lawless.  Now,  this  painful 
chapter  of  David's  history  is  designed  to  show  us  what 
the  final  effect  of  this  was  in  his  case — what  came 
ultimately  of  this  habit  of  pampering  the  lust  of  the 
flesh.  And  verily,  if  any  have  ever  been  inclined  to 
envy  David's  liberty,  and  think  it  hard  that  such  a  law 
of  restraint  binds  them  while  he  was  permitted  to  do  as 
he  pleased,  let  them  study  in  the  latter  part  of  his  history 
the  effects  of  this  unhallowed  indulgence ;  let  them  see 
his  home  robbed  of  its  peace  and  joy,  his  heart  lacerated 
by  the  misconduct  of  his  children,  his  throne  seized  by 
his  son,  while  he  has  to  fly  from  his  own  Jerusalem ; 
let  them  see^  him  obliged  to  take  the  field  against 
Absalom,  and  hear  the  air  rent  by  his  crfies  of  anguisli 
when  Absalom  is  slain;  let  them  think  how  even  his. 
deathbed  was  disturbed  by  the  noise  of  revolt,  and 
how  legacies  of  blood  had  to  be  bequeathed  to  his 
successor  almost  with  his  dying  breath, — and  surely  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  license  which  bore  such  wretched 
fruits  is  not  to  be  envied,  and  that,  after  all,  the  way 
even  of  royal  transgressors  is  hard. 

But  a  fall  so  violent  as  that  of  David  does  not  occur 
all  at  once.  It  is  generally  preceded  by  a  period  of 
spiritual  declension,  and  in  all  likelihood  there  was  such 
an  experience  on  his  part.  Nor  is  it  very  difficult  to 
find  the  cause.  For  many  years  back  David  had  en- 
joyed a  most  remarkable  run  of  prosperity.  His  army 
had  been  victorious  in  every  encounter ;  his  power  was 
recognized  by  many  neighbouring  states;  immense 
riches  flowed  from  every  quarter  to  his  capital  ;  it 
seemed  as  if  nothing  could  go  wrong  with  him.  When 
everything  prospers  to  a  man's  hand,  it  is  a  short 
step  to  the  conclusion  that  he  can  do  nothing  wrong. 
How  many  great  men  in  the  world  have  been  spoiled 


xi.]  DAVID  A^TD    URIAH.  i6i 


by  success,  and  by  unlimited,  or  even  very  great  power  ! 
In  how  many  hearts  has  the  fallacy  obtained  a  footing, 
that  ordinar}^  laws  were  not  made  for  them,  and  that  \ 

they   did  not  need    to  regard    them  !     David    was    no  \ 

exception ;  he  came  to  think  of  his  will  as   the  great  | 

directing  force  within   his    kingdom,  the  earthly  con-  ? 

sideration  that  should  regulate  all.  \ 

Then  there  was  the  absence  of  that  very  powerful 
stimulus,  the  pressure  of  distress  around  him,  which 
had  driven  him  formerly  so  close  to  God.  His  enemies 
had  been  defeated  in  every  quarter,  with  the  single 
exception  of  the  Ammonites,  a  foe  that  could  give  him 
no  anxiety ;  and  he  ceased  to  have  a  vivid  sense  of  his 
reliance  on  God  as  his  Shield.  The  pressure  of  trouble 
and  anxiety  that  had  made  his  prayers  so  earnest  was 
now  removed,  and  probably  he  had  become  somewhat 
remiss  and  formal  in  prayer.  We  little  know  how 
much  influence  our  surroundings  have  on  our  spiritual 
life  till  some  great  change  takes  place  in  them;  and 
then,  perhaps,  we  come  to  see  that  the  atmosphere  of 
trial  and  difficulty  which  oppressed  us  so  greatly  was 
really  the  occasion  to  us  of  our  highest  strength  and 
our  greatest  blessings. 

And  further,  there  was  the  fact  that  David  was  idle, 
at  least  without  active  occupation.  Though  it  was 
the  time  for  kings  to  go  forth  to  battle,  and  though  his 
presence  with  his  army  at  Rabbah  would  have  been  a 
great  help  and  encouragement  to  his  soldiers,  he  was 
not  there.  He  seems  to  have  thought  it  not  worth  his 
while.  Now  that  the  Syrians  had  been  defeated,  there 
could  be  no  difficulty  with  the  Ammonites.  At  evening- 
tide  he  arose  from  off  his  bed  and  walked  on  the  roof 
of  his  house.  He  was  in  that  idle,  listless  mood  in 
which  one  is  most  readily  attracted  by  temptation,  and 

VOL.    II.  II 


i62  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

in  which  the  lust  of  the  flesh  has  its  greatest  power. 
And,  as  it  has  been  remarked,  "  oft  the  sight  of  means 
to  do  ill  makes  ill  deeds  done."  If  any  scruples  arose 
in  his  conscience  they  were  not  regarded.  To  brush 
aside  objections  to  anything  on  which  he  had  set  his 
heart  was  a  process  to  which,  in  his  great  undertakings, 
he  had  been  well  accustomed ;  unhappily,  he  applies 
this  rule  when  it  is  not  applicable,  and  with  the  whole 
force  of  his  nature  rushes  into  temptation. 

Never  was  there  a  case  which  showed  more  emphatic- 
ally the  dreadful  chain  of  guilt  to  which  a  first  act, 
apparently  insignificant,  may  give  rise.  His  first  sin 
was  allowing  himself  to  be  arrested  to  sinful  intents 
by  the  beauty  of  Bathsheba.  Had  he,  like  Job,  m.ade  a 
covenant  with  his  eyes ;  had  he  resolved,  that  when  the 
idea  of  sin  sought  entrance  into  the  imagination  it  should 
be  sternly  refused  admission  ;  had  he,  in  a  word,  nipped 
the  temptation  in  the  bud,  he  would  have  been  saved  a 
world  of  agony  and  sin.  But  instead  of  repelHng  the 
idea  he  cherishes  it.  He  makes  inquiry  concerning 
the  woman.  He  brings  her  to  his  house.  He  uses  his 
royal  position  and  influence  to  break  down  the  objections 
v/hich  she  would  have  raised.  He  forgets  what  is  due 
to  the  faithful  soldier,  who,  employed  in  his  service,  is 
unable  to  guard  the  purity  of  his  home.  He  forgets  the 
solemn  testimony  of  the  law,  which  denounces  death  to 
both  parties  as  the  penalty  of  the  sin.  This  is  the  first 
act  of  the  tragedy. 

Then  follow  his  vain  endeavours  to  conceal  his  crime, 
frustrated  by  the  high  self-control  of  Uriah.  Yes, 
though  David  gets  him  intoxicated  he  cannot  make  a 
tool  of  him.  Strange  that  this  Hittite,  this  member  of 
one  of  the  seven  nations  of  Canaan,  whose  inheritance 
was  not  a  blessing  but  a  curse,  shows  himself  a  paragon 


xi.1  DAVID  AND   URIAH.  163  ! 

^ I 

in  that  self-command,  the  utter  absence  of  which,  in  the  | 

favoured  king  of  Israel,  has  plunged  him  so  deeply  in  \ 

the  mire.     Thus  ends  the  second  act  oi  the  tragedy.  | 

But  the  next  is  far  the  most  awful.     Uriah  must  be  \ 

got   rid  of^   not,   however,  openly,  but    by  a   cunning  % 

stratagem  that  shall  make  it  seem  as  if  his  death  were 
the  result  of  the  ordinary  fortune  of  war.  And  to  com- 
pass this  David  must  take  Joab  into  his  confidence. 
To  Joab,  therefore,  he  writes  a  letter,  indicating  what 
is  to  be  done  to  get  rid  of  Uriah.  Could  David  have 
descended  to  a  lower  depth  ?  It  was  bad  enough  to 
compass  the  death  of  Uriah  ;  it  was  mean  enough  to  \ 

make  him  the  bearer  of  the  letter  that  gave  directions  ^ 

for  his  death ;  but  surely  the  climax  of  meanness  and 
guilt  was  the  writing  of  that  letter.  Do  you  remember, 
David,  how  shocked  you  were  when  Joab  slew  Abner  ? 
Do  you  remember   your  consternation  at  the  thought  \ 

that  you  might  be  held  to  approve  of  the  murder  ?     Do  \ 

you  remember  how  often  you  have  wished  that  Joab  \ 

were  not  so  rough  a  man,  that  he  had  more  gentleness,  ;; 

more  piety,  more  concern  for  bloodshedding  ?  And 
here  are  you  making  this  Joab  your  confidant  in  sin, 
and    your  partner  in   murder,  justifying   all   the   wild  , 

work   his   sword    has  ever  done,  and  causing  him  to  | 

believe  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  holy  pretensions  David  | 

is  just  such  a  man  as  himself.  | 

Surely  it    was    a    horrible    sin — aggravated,    too,   in  | 

many  ways.     It  was    committed    by  the    head  of   the  \ 

nation,  who  was  bound  not  onl}^  to  discountenance  sin  | 

in  every  form,  but  especially  to  protect  the  families  and  j 

preserve  the  rights  of  the  brave  men  who  were  exposing 
their  lives  in  his  service.     And  that  head  of  the  nation  j 

had  been  signally  favoured  by  God,  and  had  been  ex-  1 

alted  in  room  of  one  whose  selfishness  and  godlessness  ; 


1 64  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

had  caused  him  to  be  deposed  from  his  dignity.  Then 
there  was  the  profession  made  by  David  of  zeal  for 
God's  service  and  His  law,  his  great  enthusiasm  in 
bringing  up  the  ark  to  Jerusalem,  his  desire  to  build 
a  temple,  the  character  he  had  gained  as  a  writer  of 
sacred  songs,  and  indeed  as  the  great  champion  of  re- 
ligion in  the  nation.  Further,  there  was  the  mature 
age  at  which  he  had  now  arrived,  a  period  of  life  at 
which  sobriety  in  the  indulgence  of  the  appetites  is  so 
justly  and  reasonably  expected.  And  finally,  there  was 
the  excellent  character  and  the  faithful  services  of  Uriah, 
entitling  him  to  the  high  rewards  of  his  sovereign,  rather 
than  the  cruel  fate  which  David  measured  out  to  him — 
his  home  rifled  and  his  life  taken  away. 

How  then,  it  may  be  asked,  can  the  conduct  of  David 
be  accounted  for  ?  The  answer  is  simple  enough — on 
the  ground  of  original  sin.  Like  the  rest  of  us,  he  was 
born  with  proclivities  to  evil — to  irregular  desires  crav- 
ing unlawful  indulgence.  When  divine  grace  takes 
possession  of  the  heart  it  does  not  annihilate  sinful 
tendencies,  but  overcomes  them.  It  brings  considera- 
tions to  bear  on  the  understanding,  the  conscience,  and 
the  heart,  that  inchne  and  enable  one  to  resist  the 
solicitations  of  evil,  and  to  yield  one's  self  to  the  law 
of  God.  It  turns  this  into  a  habit  of  the  Hfe.  It  gives 
one  a  sense  of  great  peace  and  happiness  in  resisting 
the  motions  of  sin,  and  doing  the  will  of  God.  It 
makes  it  the  deliberate  purpose  and  desire  of  one's 
heart  to  be  holy ;  it  inspires  one  with  the  prayer,  "  Oh 
that  my  ways  were  directed  to  keep  Thy  statutes  ! 
Then  shall  I  not  be  ashamed,  when  I  have  respect 
unto  all  Thy  commandments." 

But,  meanwhile,  the  cravings  of  the  old  nature  are 
not  wholly  destroyed.     ''The  flesh  lusteth  against  the 


xi.]  DAVID  AND    URIAH.  165 

spirit,  and  the  spirit  lusteth  against  the  flesh."  It  is 
as  if  two  armies  were  in  coUision.  The  Christian  who 
naturally  has  a  tendency  to  sensuality  may  feel  the 
craving  for  sinful  gratification  even  when  the  general  I 

bent  of  his  nature  is  in  favour  of  full  compliance  with  | 

the  will  of  God.     In  some    natures,  especially  strong  | 

natures,  both  the  old  man  and  the  new  possess  unusual  \ 

vehemence ;    the  rebellious  energisings  of  the  old  are  j 

held  in  check  by  the  still  more  resolute  vigour  of  the  | 

new ;  but  if  it  so  happen  that  the  opposition  of  the  new 
man  to  the  old  is  relaxed  or  abated,  then  the  outbreak 
of  corruption  will  probably  be  on  a  fearful  scale.  Thus 
it  was  in  David's  nature.  The  sensual  craving,  the 
law  of  sin  in  his  members,  was  strong ;  but  the  law  of 
grace,  inclining  him  to  give  himself  up  to  the  will  of 
God,  was  stronger,  and  usually  kept  him  right.  There 
was  an  extraordinary  activity  and  energy  of  character 
about  him ;  he  never  did  things  slowly,  tremblingly, 
timidly  ;  the  wellsprings  of  life  were  full,  and  gushed 
out  in  copious  currents ;  in  whatever  direction  they  might 
flow,  they  were  sure  to  flow  with  power.  But  at  this 
time  the  energy  of  the  new  nature  was  suffering  a  sad 
abatement ;  the  considerations  that  should  have  led  him 
to  conform  to  God's  law  had  lost  much  of  their  usual  | 

power.     Fellowship  with  the  Fountain  of  life  was  inter-  I 

rupted ;  the  old  nature  found  itself  free  from  its  habitual  | 

restraint,  and  its  stream  came  out  with  the  vehemence  | 

of  a  liberated  torrent.     It  would  be  quite  unfair  to  judge  | 

David  on  this  occasion  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  those  \ 

feeble  creatures  who,  as  they  seldom  rise  to  the  heights  j 

of  excellence,  seldom  sink  to  the  depths  of  daring  sin.  j 

We  make  these  remarks  simply  to  account  for  a  fact,  • 

and  by  no  means  to  excuse  a  crime.     Men  are  liable  to  | 

ask,  when  they  read  of  such  sins  done  by  good  men,  j 


1 66  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

Were  they  really  good   men  ?     Can    that    be  genuine 
goodness  which  leaves  a  man  liable  to  do  such  deeds  of 
wickedness  ?     If  so,  wherein  are  your  so-called  good 
men    better   than    other    men  ?     We   reply,   They  are 
better  than  other  men  in  this, — and  David  was  better 
than  other  men   in  this, — that  the  deepest  and   most 
deliberate  desire  of  their  hearts  is  to  do  as  God  requires, 
and  to  be  holy  as  God  is  holy.     This  is  their  habitual 
aim  and  desire  ;  and  in  this  they  are  in  the  main  suc- 
cessful.    If  this  be  not  one's  habitual  aim,  and  if  in  this 
he  do  not  habitually  succeed,  he  can  have  no  real  claim 
to  be  counted  a  good  man.     Such  is  the  doctrine  of  the 
Apostle  in  the  seventh  chapter  of  the  Romans.     Any 
one  who  reads  that  chapter  in  connection  with  the  nar- 
rative of  David's  fall  can  have  little  doubt  that  it  is  the 
experience  of  the  new  man  that  the  Apostle  is  describ- 
ing.    The  habitual  attitude  of  the  heart  is  given  in  the 
striking  words,  "  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God  after  the 
inward   man."     I    see    how   good  God's   law  is;  how 
excellent  is  the  stringent  restraint  it  lays  on  all  that  is  ^ 
loose  and  irregular,  how  beautiful  the  life  which  is  cast 
in  its  mould.     But  for  all  that,  I  feel  in  me  the  motions 
of  desire    for  unlawful  gratifications,  I  feel  a  craving 
for  the  pleasures  of  sin.     "  I  see  another   law  in  my 
members,  warring    against  the    law  of  my  mind,  and 
bringing  me  into  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin  which  is 
in  my  members."     But  how  does  the  Apostle  treat  this 
feeling?     Does  he  say,  '^  I  am  a  human  creature,  and, 
having  these  desires,  I  may  and  I  must  gratify  them  "  ? 
Far  from  it !     He  deplores  the  fact,  and  he  cries  for 
deliverance.     ^'  O  wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall 
deliver  me  from   the  body  of  this  death?"     And  his 
only  hope  of  deliverance  is  in  Him  whom  he  calls  his 
Saviour.     "  I    thank    God    through   Jesus    Christ    our 


xi.]  DAVID  AND    URIAH.  167 

Lord."  In  the  case  of  David,  the  law  of  sin  in  his 
members  prevailed  for  the  time  over  the  new  law,  the 
law  of  his  mind,  and  it  plunged  him  into  a  state  which 
might  well  have  led  him  too  to  say,  "  O  wretched  man 
that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver  me  ?  " 

And  now  we  begin  to  understand  why  this  supremely 
horrible  transaction  should  be  given  in  the  Bible,  and 
given  at  such  length.  It  bears  the  character  of  a 
beacon,  warning  the  mariner  against  some  of  the  most 
deceitful  and  perilous  rocks  that  are  to  be  found  in  all 
the  sea  of  life.  First  of  all,  it  shows  the  danger  of 
interrupting,  however  briefly,  the  duty  of  watching  and 
praying,  lest  you  enter  into  temptation.  It  is  at  your 
peril  to  discontinue  earnest  daily  communion  with  God, 
especially  when  the  evils  are  removed  that  first  drove 
you  to  seek  His  aid.  An  hour's  sleep  may  leave 
Samson  at  the  mercy  of  Delilah,  and  when  he  awakes 
his  strength  is  gone.  Further,  it  affords  a  sad  proof  of 
the  danger  of  dallying  with  sin  even  in  thought.  Admit 
sin  within  the  precincts  of  the  imagination,  and  there  is 
the  utmost  danger  of  its  ultimately  mastering  the  soul. 
The  outposts  of  the  spiritual  garrison  should  be  so 
placed  as  to  protect  even  the  thoughts,  and  the  moment 
the  enemy  is  discovered  there  the  alarm  should  be 
given  and  the  fight  begun.  It  is  a  serious  moment 
when  the  young  man  admits  a  polluted  thought  to 
his  heart,  and  pursues  it  even  in  reverie.  The  door  is 
opened  to  a  dangerous  brood.  And  everything  that 
excites  sensual  feeling,  be  it  songs,  jests,  pictures, 
books  of  a  lascivious  character,  all  tends  to  enslave 
and  pollute  the  soul,  till  at  length  it  is  saturated  with 
impurity,  and  cannot  escape  the  wretched  thraldom. 
And  further,  this  narrative  shows  us  what  moral  havoc 
and  ruin  may  be  wrought  by  the  toleration  and  grati- 


i68  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

fication  of  a  single  sinful  desire.  You  may  contend 
vigorously  against  ninety-and-nine  forms  of  sin,  but  if 
you  yield  to  the  hundredth  the  consequences  will  be 
deadly.  You  may  fling  away  a  whole  box  of  matches, 
but  if  you  retain  one  it  is  quite  sufficient  to  set  fire 
to  your  house.  A  single  soldier  finding  his  way  into 
a  garrison  may  open  the  gates  to  the  whole  besieg- 
ing army.  One  sin  leads  on  to  another  and  another, 
especially  if  the  first  be  a  sin  which  it  is  desirable  to 
conceal.  Falsehood  and  cunning,  and  even  treachery, 
are  employed  to  promote  concealment ;  unprincipled 
accomplices  are  called  in ;  the  failure  of  one  contrivance 
leads  to  other  contrivances  more  sinful  and  more 
desperate.  If  there  is  a  being  on  earth  more  to  be 
pitied  than  another  it  is  the  man  who  has  got  into  this 
labyrinth.  What  a  contrast  his  perplexed  feverish 
agitation  to  the  calm  peace  of  the  straightforward 
Christian!  ''  He  that  walketh  uprightly  walketh  surely ; 
but  he  that  perverteth  his  way  shall  be  known." 

Never  let  any  one  read  this  chapter  of  2  Samuel  with- 
out paying  the  profoundest  regard  to  its  closing  words — 
^'  But  the  thing  that  David  had  done  displeased  the 
Lord."     In  that  ''  but  "  lies  a  whole  world  of  meaning. 


CHAPTER   XV.  I 

D  A  VI D   A  ND   NA  THA  N, 
2  Samuel  xii.  1-12;  26-31.' 

IT  is  often  the  method  of  the  writers  of  Scripture,  ^ 
when  the  stream  of  public  history  has  been  broken  \ 
by  a  private  or  personal  incident,  to  complete  at  once  \ 
the  incident,  and  then  go  back  to  the  principal  history,  | 
resuming  it  at  the  point  at  which  it  was  interrupted.  In  f 
this  way  it  sometimes  happens  (as  we  have  already  \ 
seen)  that  earlier  events  are  recorded  at  a  later  part  of  | 
the  narrative  than  the  natural  order  would  imply.  In  \ 
the  course  of  the  narrative  of  David's  war  with  Amnion,  I 
the  incident  of  his  sin  with  Bathsheba  presents  itself.  | 
In  accordance  with  the  method  referred  to,  that  incident  { 
is  recorded  straight  on  to  its  very  close,  including  the  I 
birth  of  Bathsheba's  second  son,  which  must  have  | 
occurred  at  least  two  years  later.  That  being  concluded,  ^ 
the  history  of  the  war  with  Ammon  is  resumed  at  the 
point  at  which  it  was  broken  off.  We  are  not  to 
suppose,  as  many  have  done,  that  the  events  recorded 
in  the  concluding  verses  of  this  chapter  (vv.  26-31) 
happened  later  than  those  recorded  immediately  before. 
This  would  imply  that  the  siege  of  Rabbah  lasted  for 
two  or  three  years— a  supposition  hardly  to  be  enter- 
tained ;  for  Joab  was  besieging  it  when  David  first  saw 
Bathsheba,  and  there  is  no   reason  to  suppose  that  a 


I70  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


people  like  the  Ammonites  would  be  able  to  hold  the 
mere  outworks  of  the  city  for  two  or  three  whole  years 
against  such  an  army  as  David's  and  such  a  commander 
as  Joab.  It  seems  far  m.ore  Hkely  that  Joab's  first 
success  against  Rabbah  was  gained  soon  after  the  death 
of  Uriah,  and  that  his  message  to  David  to  come  and 
take  the  citadel  in  person  was  sent  not  long  after  the 
message  that  announced  Uriah's  death. 

In  that  case  the  order  of  events  would  be  as  follows  : 
After  the  death  of  Uriah,  Joab  prepares  for  an  assault 
on  Rabbah.  Meanwhile,  at  Jerusalem,  Bathsheba  goes 
through  the  form  of  mourning  for  her  husband,  and 
when  the  usual  days  of  mourning  are  over  David 
hastily  sends  for  her  and  makes  her  his  wife.  Nei^f 
comes  a  message  from  Joab  that  he  has  succeeded  in 
taking  the  city  of  waters,  and  that  only  the  citadeJ 
remains  to  be  taken,  for  which  purpose  he  urges  David 
to  come  himself  with  additional  forces,  and  thereby 
gain  the  honour  of  conquering  the  place.  It  rather  sur- 
prises one  to  find  Joab  declining  an  honour  for  himself, 
as  it  also  surprises  us  to  find  David  going  to  reap  what 
another  had  sowed.  David,  however,  goes  with  "all 
the  people,"  and  is  successful,  and  after  disposing  of 
the  Ammonites  he  returns  to  Jerusalem.  Soon  after 
Bathsheba's  child  is  born ;  then  Nathan  goes  to  David 
and  gives  him  the  message  that  lays  him  in  the  dust. 
This  is  not  only  the  most  natural  order  for  the  events, 
but  it  agrees  best  with  the  spirit  of  the  narrative.  The 
cruelties  practised  by  David  on  the  Ammonites  send 
a  thrill  of  horror  through  us  as  we  read  themx.  No 
doubt  they  deserved  a  severe  chastisement;  the  original 
offence  was  an  outrage  on  every  right  feeling,  an  out- 
rage on  the  law  of  nations,  a  gratuitous  and  contempt- 
uous insult ;  and  in  bringing  these  vast  Syrian  armies 


xii.  I-I2;  26-31.]         DAVID  AND  NATHAN.  171 

into  the  field  they  had  subjected  even  the  victorious 
Israelites  to  grievous  suffering  and  loss,  in  toil,  in 
money,  and  in  lives.  | 

Attempts  have  been  made  to  explain  av^^ay  the  severi-  | 

ties  inflicted  on  the  Ammonites,  but   it  is  impossible  to  I 

explain  av^^ay  a  plain  historical  narrative.     It  was  the 
manner  of  victorious   warriors    in    those   countries   to 
steel  their  hearts  against  all  compassion  toward  captive 
foes,  and  David,  kind-hearted  though  he  was,  did  the 
same.     And  if  it  be  said  that  surely  his  religion,  if  it 
were  religion  of  the  right  kind,  ought  to  have  made  him 
more  compassionate,  we  reply  that  at  this  period  his 
religion  was  in  a  state  of  collapse.     When  his  religion         ; 
/as  in  a  healthy  and  active  state,  it  showed  itself  in  the 
rst  place  by  his  regard  for  the  honour  of  God,  for  whose         'i 
.rk  he  provided  a  resting-place,  and  in  whose  honour  he         \. 
proposed  to  build  a  temple.     Love  to  God  was  accom-         \ 
panied  by  love  to  man,  exhibited  in  his  efforts  to  show         \ 
kindness  to  the  house  of  Saul  for  the  sake  of  Jonathan,         \ 
and  to  Hanun  for  the  sake  of  Nahash.     But  now  the         I 
picture  is  reversed ;  he  falls  into  a  cold  state  of  heart        \ 
toward  God,  and  in  connection  with  that  declension  we        ■. 
mark  a  more  than  usually  severe  punishment  inflicted        \ 
on  his  enemies.     Just  as  the  leaves  first  become  yellow        \ 
and  finally  drop  from   the  tree   in  autumn,   when  the        | 
juices  that  fed  them  begin  to  fail,  so  the  kindly  actions        \ 
that  had  marked  the  better  periods  of  his  life  first  fail,        | 
then  turn  to  deeds  of  cruelty  when  that  Holy  Spirit,        | 
who  is  the  fountain  of  all  goodness,  being  resisted  and        \ 
grieved  by  him,  withholds  His  living  power.  j 

In   the  whole   transaction  at   Rabbah  David   shows        j 
poorly.     It  is  not  like  him  to  be  roused  to  an  enterprise        | 
by  an  appeal  to  his  love  of  fame ;  he  might  have  left 
Joab  to  complete  the  conquest  and  enjoy  the  honour       j 

a 
\ 

I 
% 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


which  his  sword  had  substantially  won.  It  is  not  like 
him  to  go  through  the  ceremony  of  being  crowned  with 
the  crown  of  the  king  of  Ammon,  as  if  it  were  a  great 
thing  to  have  so  precious  a  diadem  on  his  head.  Above 
all,  it  is  not  like  him  to  show  so  terrible  a  spirit  in 
disposing  of  his  prisoners  of  war.  But  all  this  is  quite 
likely  to  have  happened  if  he  had  not  yet  come  to 
repentance  for  his  sin.  When  a  man's  conscience  is 
ill  at  ease,  his  temper  is  commonly  irritable.  Unhappy 
in  his  inmost  soul,  he  is  in  the  temper  that  most  easily 
becomes  savage  when  provoked.  No  one  can  imagine 
that  David's  conscience  was  at  rest.  He  must  have 
had  that  restless  feeling  which  every  good  man  experi- 
ences after  doing  a  wrong  act,  before  coming  to  a  clear 
apprehension  of  it ;  he  must  have  been  eager  to  escape 
from  himself,  and  Joab's  request  to  him  to  come  to 
Rabbah  and  end  the  war  must  have  been  very  oppor- 
tune. In  the  excitement  of  war  he  would  escape  for 
a  time  the  pursuit  of  his  conscience ;  but  he  would  be 
restless  and  irritable,  and  disposed  to  drive  out  of  his 
way,  in  the  most  unceremonious  manner,  whoever  or 
whatever  should  cross  his  path. 

We  now  return  with  him  to  Jerusalem.  He  had 
added  another  to  his  long  list  of  illustrious  victories,  and 
he  had  carried  to  the  capital  another  vast  store  of  spoil. 
The  public  attention  would  be  thoroughly  occupied 
with  these  brilliant  events ;  and  a  king  entering  his 
capital  at  the  head  of  his  victorious  troops,  and  followed 
by  waggons  laden  with  public  treasure,  need  not  fear  a 
harsh  construction  on  his  private  actions.  The  fate  of 
Uriah  might  excite  little  notice  ;  the  affair  of  Bathsheba 
would  soon  blow  over.  The  brilliant  victory  that  had 
terminated  the  war  seemed  at  the  same  time  to  have 
extricated  the    king  from    a  personal  scandal.     David 


xii.  I-I2;  25-31.]         DAVID   AND   NATHAN,  173 

might  flatter  himself  that  all  would  now  be  peace  and 
quiet,  and  that  the  waters  of  oblivion  would  gather  over 
that  ugly  business  of  Uriah. 

''  But  the  thing  that  David  had  done  displeased  the 
Lord." 

^'And  the  Lord  sent  Nathan  unto  David." 
Slowly,  sadly,  silently  the  prophet  bends  his  steps  to 
the  palace.     Anxiously  and  painfully  he  prepares  him- 
self for  the  most  distressing  task  a  prophet  of  the  Lord 
ever  had  to   go    through.     He   has   to    convey   God's 
reproof  to  the  king ;  he  has  to  reprove  one  from  w^hom, 
doubtless,  he  has  received  many  an  impulse  towards  all 
that  is   high  and  holy.      Very  happily  he  clothes  his 
message  in  the  Eastern  garb  of  parable.     He  puts  his 
parable  in  such    life-like  form  that    the    king    has    no 
suspicion  of  its  real  character.     The  rich  robber  that 
spared  his  own  flocks  and  herds  to  feed  the  traveller, 
and  stole  the  poor  man's  ewe  lamb,  is  a  real  flesh-and- 
blood  criminal  to  him.     And  the  deed  is  so  dastardly, 
its  heartlessness  is  so  atrocious,  that  it  is  not  enough 
to  enforce  against  such  a  wretch  the  ordinary  law  of 
fourfold  restitution  ;  in  the  exercise  of  his  high  prero- 
gative the  king  pronounces  a  sentence  of  death  upon 
the  ruffian,   and  confirms  it  with  the  solemnity  of  an 
oath — ''  The  man  that  hath  done  this  thing  shall  surely 
die."     The  flash  of  indignation  is  yet  in  his  eye,  the 
flush  of  resentment  is    still    on    his    brow,  when    the 
prophet  with  calm  voice  and    piercing  eye  utters  the 
solemn  words,   "  Thou   art    the   man  ! "     Thou,    great 
king  of  Israel,  art  the  robber,  the  ruffian,  condemned 
by  thine  own  voice  to  the  death  of  the  worst  malefactor ! 
"  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  I  anointed  thee 
king  over  Israel,  and  I  delivered  thee  out  of  the  hand 
of  Saul ;  and  I  gave  thee  thy  master's  house,  and  thy 


174  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

master's  wives  into  thy  bosom,  and  gave  thee  the  house 
of  Israel  and  of  Judah  ;  and  if  that  had  been  too  Httle 
I  would  moreover  have  given  thee  such  and  such  things. 
Wherefore  hast  thou  despised  the  commandment  of  the 
Lord,  to  do  evil  in  His  sight  ?  Thou  hast  killed  Uriah 
the  Hittite  with  the  sword,  and  hast  slain  him  with  the 
sword  of  the  children  of  Ammon." 

It  is  not  difficult  to  fancy  the  look  of  the  king  as 
the  prophet  delivered  his  message — how  at  first  when 
he  said,  ''  Thou  art  the  man,"  he  would  gaze  at  him 
eagerly  and  wistfully,  like  one  at  a  loss  to  divine  his 
meaning  ;  and  then,  as  the  prophet  proceeded  to  apply 
his  parable,  how,  conscience-stricken,  his  expression 
would  change  to  one  of  horror  and  agony  ;  how  the 
deeds  of  the  last  twelve  months  would  glare  in  all  their 
infamous  baseness  upon  him,  and  outraged  Justice,  with 
a  hundred  glittering  swords,  would  seem  all  impatient 
to  devour  him. 

It  is  no  mere  imagination  that,  in  a  moment,  the 
mind  may  be  so  quickened  as  to  embrace  the  actions 
of  a  long  period  ;  and  that  with  equal  suddenness  the 
moral  aspect  of  them  may  be  completely  changed. 
There  are  moments  when  the  powers  of  the  mind  as 
well  as  those  of  the  body  are  so  stimulated  as  to  become 
capable  of  exertions  undreamt  of  before.  The  dumb 
prince,  in  ancient  history,  who  all  his  life  had  never 
spoken  a  word,  but  found  the  power  of  speech  when  he 
saw  a  sword  raised  to  cut  down  his  father,  showed  how 
danger  could  stimulate  the  organs  of  the  body.  The 
sudden  change  in  David's  feeling  now,  like  the  sudden 
change  in  Saul's  on  the  way  to  Damascus,  showed 
what  electric  rapidity  may  be  communicated  to  the 
operations  of  the  soul.  It  showed  too  what  unseen 
nnd  irresistible  agencies  of  conviction  and  condemnation 


xii.  1-12;  26-31.]        DAVID  AND  NATHAN.  175 


Come,  Holy  Spirit,  come, 
Let  Thy  bright  beams  arise  ; 

Dispel  the  darkness  from  our  minds, 
And  open  all  our  eyes. 


the   great   Judge  can  bring  into  play  when  it  is    His 
will    to    do    so.     As    the    steam    hammer   may    be    so 
adjusted  as  either  to  break  a  nutshell  without  injuring 
the  kernel,  or  crush  a  block  of  quartz  to  powder,  so  the 
Spirit  of  God  can  range,  in  His  effects  on  the  conscience, 
between    the   mildest    feeling   of  uneasiness   and    the       \ 
bitterest  agony  of  remorse.     ''When  He  is  come,"  said       \ 
our  blessed  Lord,  ''  He  shall  reprove  the  world  of  sin."       f 
How  helpless    men   are    under  His   operation  1     How       * 
utterly  was  David  prostrated  !    How  were  the  multitudes       I 
brought  down  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  !     Is  there  any       j 
petition   we  more  need    to  press  than  that  the  Spirit       \ 
be  poured  out  to  convince  of  sin,  whether  as  it  regards       i^ 
ourselves  or  the  world  ?     Is  it  not  true  that  the  great       \ 
want  of  the  Church  the  want  of  is  a  sense  of  sin,  so  that       \ 
confession   and  humiliation   are  become  rare,  and  our       \ 
very  theology  is  emasculated,  because,  where  there  is       f 
little  sense  of  sin,  there  can  be  little   appreciation  of      | 
redemption  ?     And  is    not  a  sense  of  sin  that  which       l' 
would  bring  a  careless  world  to  itself,  and  make  it  deal       \ 
earnestly  with  God's  gracious   offers  ?     How  striking      [ 
is  the  effect  ascribed  by  the  prophet  Zechariah  to  that       '\ 
pouring  of  the  spirit  of  grace  and  supplication  upon  the      f 
house  of  David  and  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem,  when       I 
"  they  shall  look  on  Him  whom  they  have  pierced,  and 
shall  mourn  for  Him  as  one  mourneth  for  an  only  son,       j 
and  shall  be  in  bitterness  for  Him  as  one  that  is  in       v 
bitterness    for  his  firstborn."     Would    that  our  whole      \ 
hearts  went  out  in  those  invocations  of  the  Spirit  which      \ 
we  often  sing,  but  alas  !  so  very  tamely — .  ! 


176  7 HE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

"  Convince  us  of  our  sin, 
Lead  us  to  Jesus'  blood, 
And  kindle  in  our  breast  the  flame 
Of  never-dying  love." 

We  cannot  pass  from  this  aspect  of  David's  case 
without  marking  the  terrible  power  of  self-deception. 
Nothing  bHnds  men  so  much  to  the  real  character  of  a  sin 
as  the  fact  that  it  is  their  own.  Let  it  be  presented  to 
them  in  the  light  of  another  man's  sin,  and  they  are 
shocked.  It  is  easy  for  one's  self-love  to  weave  a  veil 
of  fair  embroidery,  and  cast  it  over  those  deeds  about 
which  one  is  somewhat  uncomfortable.  It  is  easy  to 
devise  for  ourselves  this  excuse  and  that,  and  lay 
stress  on  one  excuse  and  another  that  may  lessen  the 
appearance  of  criminality.  But  nothing  is  more  to  be 
deprecated,  nothing  more  to  be  deplored,  than  success 
in  that  very  process.  Happy  for  you  if  a  Nathan  is 
sent  to  you  in  time  to  tear  to  rags  your  elaborate 
embroidery,  and  lay  bare  the  essential  vileness  of  your 
deed  !  Happy  for  you  if  your  conscience  is  made  to 
assert  its  authority,  and  cry  to  you,  with  its  awful 
voice,  "  Thou  art  the  man  ! "  For  if  you  live  and  die  in 
your  fool's  paradise,  excusing  every  sin,  and  saying 
peace,  peace,  when  there  is  no  peace,  there  is  nothing 
for  you  but  the  rude  awakening  of  the  day  of  judgment, 
when  the  hail  shall  sweep  away  the  refuge  of  lies  ! 

After  Nathan  had  exposed  the  sin  of  David  he 
proceeded  to  declare  his  sentence.  It  was  not  a 
sentence  of  death,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term, 
but  it  was  a  sentence  of  death  in  a  sense  even  more 
difficult  to  bear.  It  consisted  of  three  things— first, 
the  sword  should  never  depart  from  his  house  ;  second, 
out  of  his  own  house  evil  should  be  raised  against  him, 
and  a  dishonoured  harem  should  show  the  nature  and 


xii.  1-12;  26-31.]        DAVID  AND  NATHAN.  177 


extent  of  the  humiliation  that  would  come  upon  him;  '  1 
and  thirdly,  a  public  exposure  should  thus  be  made  I 
of  his  sin,  so  that  he  would  stand  in  the  pillory  of  } 
Dfvine  rebuke,  and  in  the  shame  which  it  entailed,  } 
before  all  Israel,  and  before  the  sun.  When  David  \ 
confessed  his  sin,  Nathan  told  him  that  the  Lord  had  .  | 
graciously  forgiven  it,  but  at  the  same  time  a  special  \ 
chastisement  was  to  mark  how  concerned  God  Was  for 
the  fact  that  by  his  sin  he  had  caused  the  enemy  to  [ 
blaspheme — the  child  born  of  Bathsheba  was  to  die.  \ 

Reserving  this  last  part  of  the  sentence  and  David's       ! 
rearing  in  connection  with  it  for  future  consideration, 
'et  us  give  attention  to  the  first  portion  of  his  retribu-       f 
don.     ^*  The  sword  shall  never  depart  from  thy  house."      I 
Here  .. ::  find  a  great  principle  in  the  moral  government      I 
of  God, — correspondence   between  an  offence   and  its       | 
retribution.     Of  this  many  instances  occur  in  the  Old       \ 
Testament.     Jacob  deceived  his  father  ;  he  was  deceived       \ 
by  his  own  sons.     Lot  made  a  worldly  choice ;  in  the      I 
world's  ruin   he  was  overwhelmed.     So   David  having      | 
slain  Uriah  with  the  sword,  the  sword  was  never  to      } 
depart  from  him.     He  had  robbed  Uriah  of  his  wife ;      \ 
his  neighbours  would  in  like  manner  rob  and  dishonour      | 
him.     He  had  disturbed  the  purity  of  the  family  relation  ;      I 
his  own  house  was  to  become  a  den  of  pollution.     He      | 
had   mingled   deceit    and    treachery  with   his    actions;      I 
deceit  and  treachery  would  be  practised  towards  him.      f 
What  a  sad  and  ominous  prospect  !     Men  naturally  look      i 
for  peace  in  old  age;    the  evening  of  Hfe  is  expected      I 
to  be  calm.     But   for  him  there   was  to   be  no  calm ;      [ 
and  his  trial  was  to  fall  on  the  tenderest  part  of  his      } 
nature.     He  had   a  strong  affection   for  his  children  ;      | 
in   that  very  feehng  he  was  to  be  wounded,  and  that,      j 
too,  all  his  life   long.     Oh     let  not  any  suppose  that,      j 
VOL.  II.  12  'i 


I 


178  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

because  God's  children  are  saved  by  His  mercy  him. 
eternal  punishment,  it  is  a  light  thing  for  them  to 
despise  the  commandments  of  the  Lord  !  ^'  Thine  own 
wickedness  shall  correct  thee,  and  thy  backslidings  shall 
reprove  thee ;  know  therefore  and  see  that  it  is  an 
evil  thing  and  bitter  that  thou  hast  forsaken  the  Lord 
thy  God,  and  that  thy  fear  is  not  in  Me,  saith  ::he  Lord 
of  hosts." 

Pre-eminent  in  its  bitterness  was  that  part  :t' David's 
retribution  which  made  his  own  house  the  source  from 
which  his  bitterest  trials  and  humiliations  should  arise. 
For  the  most  part,  it  is  in  extreme  cases  only  thai, 
parents  have  to  encounter  this  trial.  It  is  only  in  the 
wickedest  households,  and  in  households  for  the  most 
part  where  the  passions  are  roused  to  madness  by 
drink,  that  the  hand  of  the  child  is  raised  against  his 
father  to  wound  and  dishonour  him.  It  was  a  terrible 
humiliation  to  the  king  of  Israel  to  have  to  bear  this 
doom,  and  especially  to  that  king  of  Israel  who 
in  many  ways  bore  so  close  a  resemblance  to  the 
promised  Seed,  who  was  indeed  to  be  the  progenitor 
of  that  Seed,  so  that  when  Messiah  came  He  should 
be  called  "  the  Son  of  David."  Alas  !  the  glory  of  this 
distinction  was  to  be  sadly  tarnished.  "  Son  of  David  " 
was  to  be  a-  very  equivocal  title,  according  to  the 
character  of  the  individual  who  should  bear  it.  In 
one  case  it  would  denote  the  very  climax  of  honour ; 
in  another,  the  depth  of  humiliation.  Yes,  that  house- 
hold of  David's  would  reek  with  foul  lusts  and  unnatural 
crimes.  From  the  bosom  of  that  home  where,  under 
other  circumstances,  it  would  have  been  so  natural  to 
look  for  model  children,  pure,  affectionate,  and  dutiful, 
there  would  come  forth  monsters  of  lust  and  monsters 
oi  ambition,  whose  deeds  of  infamy  would  hardly  find 


xu.  1-12  ; 


:6-3i.]       DAVID   AND   NATHAN.  179 


a  parallel  in  the  annals  of  the  nation  !     In  the  breasts  | 

of  some  of  these  royal  children    the  devil  would  find  \ 

a    seat   where    he    might    plan    and   execute   the   most  \ 

unnatural  crimes.     And  that  city  of  Jerusalem,  which  | 

he    had    rescued    from    the    Jebusites,    consecrated    as  | 

God's  dwelling-place,  and  built  and  adorned  with  the  | 

spoils    which    the    king  had    taken    in    many    a    well-  [ 

fought  field,   would   turn   against   him  in  his  old  age,  ( 

and  force  him  to  fly  wherever  a  refuge   could  be  found  • 

as  homeless,  and   nearly  as   destitute,   as   in  the  days  ! 

of  his  youth  when  he  fled  from  Saul  !  j 

And  lastly,  his  retribution  was  to  be  public.     He  had  ; 

done    his    part  secretly,  but    God  would   do    His  part  \ 

openly.     There  was  not  a  man  or  woman  in  all  Israel  \ 

but  would  see  these  judgments  coming  on  a  king  who  .  | 

had  outraged  his  royal  position  and  his  royal  preroga-  \ 

tives.     How  could  he  ever  go  in  and  out  happily  among  \ 

them  again  ?     How  could  he  be  sure,  when  he  met  any  | 

of  them,  that  they  were  not  thinking  of  his  crime,  and  ; 

condemning  him  in  their  hearts  ?     How  could  he  meet  j 

the  hardly  suppressed  scowl  of  every  Hittite,  that  would  | 

recall  his  treatment  of  their  faithful  kinsman  ?     What  \ 

a  burden  would  he  carry  ever  after,  he  that   used  to  { 

wear  such  a  frank  and  honest  and  kindly  look,  that  was  | 

so  affable  to  all  that  sought  his  counsel,  and  so  tender-  j 

hearted  to  all  that  were  in  trouble  !     And  what  outlet  | 

could  he  find  out  of  all  this  misery  ?     There  was  but  | 

one  he  could  think  of;     If  only  God  would  forgive  him ;  | 

if  He,  whose  mercy  was    in   the  heavens,   would  but  \ 

receive  him  again  of  His  infinite  condescension  into  His  I 

fellowship,  and  vouchsafe  to  him  that  grace  which  was  | 

not  the  fruit  of  man's  deserving,  but,  as  its  very  name  | 

implied,  of  God's  unbounded  goodness,  then  might  his  j 

soul  return  again  to  its  quiet  rest,  though  fife  could  never  \ 


i8o  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

be  to  him  what  it  was  before.  And  this,  as  we  shall 
presently  see,  is  what  he  set  himself  very  earnestly  to 
seek,  and  what  of  God's  mercy  he  was  permitted  to 
find.  O  sinner,  if  thou  hast  strayed  like  a  lost  sheep, 
and  plunged  into  the  very  depths  of  sin,  know  that  all 
is  not  lost  with  thee  !  There  is  one  way  yet  open  to 
peace,  if  not  to  joy.  Amid  the  ten  thousand  times  ten 
thousand  voices  that  condemn  thee,  there  is  one  voice 
of  love  that  comes  from  heaven  and  says,  *'  Return 
unto  Me,  and  I  will  return  unto  you,  saith  the  Lord." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

PENITENCE  AND   CHASTISEMENT, 
2  Samuel  xii.  13—25. 

WHEN  Nathan  ended  his  message,  plainly  and 
strongly  though  he  had  spoken,  David  indicated 
no  irritation,  made  no  complaint  against  the  prophet, 
but  simply  and  humbly  confessed — ''  I  have  sinned." 
It  is  so  common  for  men  to  be  offended  when  a  servant 
of  God  remonstrates  with  them,  and  to  impute  their 
interference  to  an  unworthy  motive,  and  to  the  desire 
of  some  one  to  hurt  and  humiliate  them,  that  it  is 
refreshing  to  find  a  great  king  receiving  the  rebuke  of 
the  Lord's  servant  in  a  spirit  of  profound  humility  and 
frank  confession.  Very  different  was  the  experience  of 
John  the  Baptist  when  he  remonstrated  with  Herod. 
Very  different  was  the  experience  of  the  famous  Chry- 
sostom  when  he  rebuked  the  emperor  and  empress 
for  conduct  unworthy  of  Christians.  Very  different  has 
been  the  experience  of  many  a  faithful  minister  in  a 
humbler  sphere,  when,  constrained  by  a  sense  of  duty, 
he  has  gone  to  some  man  of  influence  in  his  flock, 
and  spoken  seriously  to  him  of  sins  which  bring  a 
reproach  on  the  name  of  Christ.  Often  it  has  cost  the 
faithful  man  days  and  nights  of  pain  ;  girding  himself 
for  the  duty  has  been  like  preparing  for  martyrdom ; 
and  it  has  been  really  martyrdom  when  he  has  had  to 


i82  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

bear  the  long  malignant  enmity  of  the  man  whom  he 
rebuked.  However  vile  the  conduct  of  David  may 
have  been,  it  is  one  thing  in  his  favour  that  he  receives 
his  rebuke  v^^ith  perfect  humility  and  submission  ;  he 
makes  no  attempt  to  paUiate  his  conduct  either  before 
God  or  man  ;  but  sums  up  his  whole  feeling  in  these 
expressive  words,  "  I  have  sinned  against  the  Lord." 

To  this  frank  acknowledgment  Nathan  replied  that 
the  Lord  had  put  away  his  sin,  so  that  he  would  not 
undergo  the  punishment  of  death.  It  was  his  own 
judgment  that  the  miscreant  who  had  stolen  the  ewe 
lamb  should  die,  and  as  that  proved  to  be  himself,  it 
indicated  the  punishment  that  was  due  to  him.  That 
punishment,  however,  the  Lord,  in  the  exercise  of  His 
clemency,  had  been  pleased  to  remit.  But  a  palpable 
proof  of  His  displeasure  was  to  be  given  in  another 
way — the  child  of  Bathsheba  was  to  die.  It  was  to 
become,  as  it  were,  the  scapegoat  for  its  father.  In 
those  times  father  and  child  were  counted  so  much  one 
that  the  offence  of  the  one  was  often  visited  on  both. 
When  Achan  stole  the  spoil  at  Jericho,  not  only  he 
himself,  but  his  whole  family,  shared  his  sentence  of 
death.  In  this  case  of  David  the  father  was  to  escape, 
but  the  child  was  to  die.  It  may  seem  hard,  and  barely 
just.  But  death  to  the  child,  though  in  form  a  punish- 
ment, might  prove  to  be  great  gain.  It  might  mean 
transference  to  a  higher  and  brighter  state  of  existence. 
It  might  mean  escape  from  a  life  full  of  sorrows 
and  perils  to  the  world  where  there  is  no  more  pain, 
nor  sorrow,  nor  death,  because  the  former  things  are 
passed  away. 

We  cannot  pass  from  the  consideration  of  David's 
great  penitence  for  his  sin  without  dwelling  a  little 
more  on  some  of  its  features.     It  is  in  the  fifty-first 


xii.  13-250    PENITENCE  AND   CHASTISEMENT.               183  j 

Psalm  that  the  working  of  his  soul  is  best  unfolded  to  us.  [ 

No  doubt  it  has  been  strongly  urged  by  certain  modern  \ 

critics   that  that  psalm  is   not   David's  at  all ;   that  it  ^ 

belongs  to  some  other  period,  as  the  last  verse  but  one 

indicates,  when  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  were  in  ruins ;  . 

—most  Hkely  the  period  of  the  Captivity.     But  even  if  j 

we  should  have  to  say  of  the  last  two  verses  that  they  ( 

must  have  been  added  at  another  time,  we  cannot  but  | 

hold  the  psalm  to  be  the  outpouring  of  David's  soul,  j 

and  not  the  expression  of  the  penitence  of  the  nation  j 

at   large.       If  ever  psalm  was   the   expression   of  the  \ 

feelings  of  an  individual  it  is  this  one.     And  if  ever  [ 

psalm  was  appropriate  to  King  David  it  is  this  one.  \ 

For  the  one  thing  which  is  uppermost  in  the  soul  of  j 

the  writer  is  his   personal  relation  to  God.     The  one  \ 

thing  that  he  values,  and  for  which  all  other  things  are  { 

counted  but  dung,  is  friendly  intercourse    with    God.  v 

This  sin  no  doubt  has  had  many  other  atrocious  effects  ,  ; 

but    the  terrible  thing  is  that  it  has  broken  the  link  \ 

that  bound  him  to  God,  it  has  cut  off  all   the  blessed  | 

things  that  come  by  that  channel,  it  has  made  him  an  ^ 

outcast  from  Him  whose  lovingkindness  is  better  than  V 

life.     Without  God's  favour  life  is  but  misery.     He  can  \ 

do  no  good  to  man ;  he  can  do  no  service  to  God.     It  | 

is  a  rare  thing   even  for  good  men  to    have   such    a  | 

profound   sense  of  the    blessedness    of  God's   favour.  | 

David  was  one  of  those  who  had  it  in  the  profoundes'.  | 

degree  ;  and  as  the  fifty-first  Psalm  is  full  of  it,  as  it  I 

forms  the  very  soul  of  its  pleadings,  we  cannot  doubt  j 

that  it  was  a  psalm  of  David.  j 

The  humiliation  of  the  Psalmist  before  God  is  very  j 

profound,  very  thorough.     His  case  is  one  for  simple  | 

mercy ;  he  has  not  the  shadow  of  a  plea  in  self-defence.  j 

His  sin  is  in  every  aspect  atrocious.     It  is  the  product  j 


1 84  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

of  one  so  vile  that  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  shapen 
in  iniquity  and  conceived  in  sin.  The  aspect  of  it  as 
sin  against  God  is  so  overwhelming  that  it  absorbs  the 
other  aspect — the  sin  against  man.  Not  but  that  he 
has  sinned  against  man  too,  but  it  is  the  sin  against 
God  that  is  so  awful,  so  overwhelming. 

Yet,  if  his  sin  abounds,  the  Psalmist  feels  that  God's 
grace  abounds  much  more.  He  has  the  highest  sense 
of  the  excellence  and  the  multitude  of  God's  loving- 
kindnesses.  Man  can  never  make  himself  so  odious 
as  to  be  beyond  the  Divine  compassion.  He  can  never 
become  so  guilty  as  to  be  beyond  the  Divine  forgiveness. 
"  Blot  out  my  transgressions,"  sobs  David,  knowing 
that  it  can  be  done.  ''  Purge  me  with  hyssop,"  he 
cries,  "  and  I  shall  be  clean  ;  wash  me,  and  I  shall  be 
whiter  than  the  snow.  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  and 
renew  a  right  spirit  within  me." 

But  this  is  not  all ;  it  is  far  from  all.  He  pleads 
most  plaintively  for  the  restoration  of  God's  friendship. 
"  Cast  me  not  away  from  Thy  presence,  and  take  not 
Thy  Holy  Spirit  from  me," — for  that  would  be  hell ; 
^'  Restore  unto  me  the  joy  of  Thy  salvation,  and  uphold 
me  with  Thy  free  Spirit," — for  that  is  heaven.  And, 
with  the  renewed  sense  of  God's  love  and  grace,  there 
would  come  a  renewed  power  to  serve  God  and  be 
useful  to  men.  '^  Then  will  I  teach  transgressors  Thy 
ways;  and  sinners  shall  be  converted  unto  Thee.  O 
Lord,  open  Thou  my  lips ;  and  my  mouth  shall  show 
forth  Thy  praise."  Deprive  me  not  for  ever  of  Thy 
friendship,  for  then  life  would  be  but  darkness  and 
anguish ;  depose  me  not  for  ever  from  Thy  ministry, 
continue  to  me  yet  the  honour  and  the  privilege  of 
converting  sinners  unto  Thee.  Of  the  sacrifices  of 
the    law    it    was    needless    to    think,   as    if  they  were 


xii.  13-25.]     PENITENCE  AND   CHASTISEMENT.  185 

adequate  to  purge  away  so  overwhelming  a  sin. 
"  Thou  desirest  not  sacrifice,  else  I  would  give  it : 
Thou  delightest  not  in  burnt-offering.  The  sacrifices 
of  God  are  a  broken  spirit :  a  broken  and  a  contrite 
heart,  O  God,  Thou  wilt  not  despise." 

With  all  his  consciousness  of  sin,  David  has  yet 
a  profound  faith  in  God's  mercy,  and  he  is  forgiven. 
But  as  we  have  seen,  the  Divine  displeasure  against 
him  is  to  be  openly  manifested  in  another  form, 
because,  in  addition  to  his  personal  sin,  he  has  given 
occasion  to  the  enemies  of  the  Lord  to  blaspheme. 

This  is  an  aggravation  of  guilt  which  only  God's 
children  can  commit.  And  it  is  an  aggravation  of 
a  most  distressing  kind,  enough  surely  to  warn 
off  every  Christian  from  vile  self-indulgence.  The 
blasphemy  to  which  David  had  given  occasion  was 
that  which  denies  the  reality  of  God's  work  in  the 
souls  of  His  people.  It  denies  that  they  are  better 
than  others.  They  only  make  more  pretence,  but 
that  pretence  is  hollow,  if  not  hypocritical.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  a  special  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
in  them,  and  therefore  there  is  no  reason  why  any  one 
should  seek  to  be  converted,  or  why  he  should  implore 
the  special  grace  of  the    Spirit  of  God.     Alas !    how  \ 

true    it    is    that    when    any  one  who  occupies   a  con-  | 

spicuous   place  in  the  Church    of  God    breaks  down,  | 

such  sneers  are  sure  to  be  discharged  on  every  side  !  I 

What  a  keen  eye  the  world   has  for  the  inconsisten-  |: 

cies  of    Christians  !     With  what    remorseless  severity  \ 

does  it  come  down  on  them  when  they  fall  into  these 
inconsistencies  !  Sins  that  would  hardly  be  thought 
of  if  committed  by  others, — what  a  serious  aspect  they 
assume  when  committed  by  them  !  Had  it  been 
Nebuchadnezzar,    for   example,  that  treated    Uriah  as 


i86  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

David  did,  who  would  have  thought  of  it  a  second 
time  ?  What  else  could  you  expect  of  Nebuchadnezzar  ? 
Let  a  Christian  society  or  any  other  Christian  body  be 
guilty  of  a  scandal,  how  do  the  worldly  newspapers 
fasten  on  it  like  treasure-trove,  and  exult  over  their 
humbled  victim,  like  Red  Indians  dancing  their  war 
dances  and  flourishing  their  tomahawks  over  some 
miserable  prisoner.  The  scorn  is  very  bitter,  and 
sometimes  it  is  very  unjust ;  yet  perhaps  it  has  on 
the  whole  a  wholesome  effect,  just  because  it  stimulates 
vigilance  and  carefulness  on  the  part  of  the  Church. 
But  the  worst  of  the  case  is,  that  on  the  part  of  un- 
believers it  stimulates  that  blasphemy  which  is  ahke 
dishonouring  to  God  and  pernicious  to  man.  Virtually 
this  blasphemy  denies  the  whole  work  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  the  hearts  of  men.  It  denies  the  reality  of 
any  supernatural  agency  of  the  Spirit  in  one  more 
than  in  all.  And  denying  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  it 
makes  men  careless  about  the  Spirit ;  it  neutralises  the 
solemn  words  of  Christ,  ^'  Ye  must  be  born  again."  It 
throws  back  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  it  turns  back 
many  a  pilgrim  who  had  been  thinking  seriously  of 
beginning  the  journey  to  the  heavenly  city,  because 
he  is  now  uncertain  whether  such  a  city  exists  at  all. 
Hardly  has  Nathan  left  the  king's  house  when  the 
child  begins  to  sicken,  and  the  sickness  becomes  very 
great.  We  should  have  expected  that  David  would 
be  concerned  and  distressed,  but  hardly  to  the  degree 
which  his  distress  attained.  In  the  intensity  of  his 
anxiety  and  grief  there  is  something  remarkable.  A 
new-born  infant  could  scarcely  have  taken  that  myste- 
rious hold  on  a  father's  heart  which  a  httle  time  is 
commonly  required  to  develop,  but  which,  once  it  is 
there,  makes  the  loss  even  of  a  little  child  a  grievous 


xii.  13-25.]    PENITENCE  AND   CHASTISEMENT.  187 


blow,  and  leaves  the  heart  sick  and  sore  for  many  a 

day.     But    there    is    something    in    an    infant's    agony 

which  unmans  the  strongest  heart,  especially  when  it 

comes  in  convulsive  fits  that  no  skill  can  allay.     And 

should  one,  in  addition,  be  tortured  with  the  conviction 

that  the  child  was  suffering  on  one's  own  account,  one's  I 

distress   might  well  be   overpowering.     And   this  was  f 

David's  feeling.     His    sin   was    ever   before   him.     As  { 

he   saw   that  suffering   infant  he  must  have  felt  as  if  j 

the  stripes  that  should  have  fallen  on  him  were  tearing  i 

the  poor  babe's  tender  frame,  and  crushing  him  with  \ 

undeserved  suffering.     Even  in  ordinary  cases,  it  is  a  | 

mysterious  thing  to  see  an  infant  in  mortal  agony.     It  is  | 

solemnizing  to  think  that  the  one  member  of  the  family  | 

who  has  committed  no  actual  sin  should  be   the  first  %. 

to  reap  the  deadly  wages  of  sin.     It  leads  us  to  think  | 

of  mankind  as  one  tree  of  many  branches  ;  and  when 

the  wintry  frost   begins  to   prevail  it  is   the  youngest 

and  tenderest  branchlets  that  first  droop  and  die.     Oh  ! 

how    careful   should    those    in    mature   years    be,   and 

especially  parents,  lest  by  their  sins  they  bring  down 

a   retribution  which   shall  fall  first  on   their  children, 

and  perhaps  the  youngest  and  most  innocent  of  all ! 

Yet    how  often   do  we    see   the   children  suffering  for 

the  sins  of  their  parents,  and  suffering  in  a  way  which, 

in  this  life  at  least,  admits  of  no  right  remedy  !     In  that 

''  bitter  cry  of  outcast  London,"  which  fell  some  years 

ago  on  the  ears  of  the  country,  by  far  the  most  distress-  \ 

ing  note  was  the  cry  of  infants  abandoned  by  drunken 

parents  before  they  could   well  walk,    or    living  with 

them  in  hovels  where  blows  and  curses  came  in  place 

of  food   and  clothing  and  kindness — children  brought 

up  without  aught  of  the  sunshine  of  love,  every  tender 

feeling  nipped  and  shrivelled  in  the  very  bud  by  the 


iS8  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

frost  of  bitter,  brutal  cruelty.  And  if  in  ordinary 
families  children  are  not  made  to  suffer  so  palpably 
for  their  parents'  sins,  yet  suffer  they  do  in  many  ways 
sufficiently  serious.  Wherever  there  is  a  bad  example, 
wherever  there  is  a  laxity  of  principle,  wherever  God 
is  dishonoured,  the  sin  reacts  upon  the  children.  Their 
moral  texture  is  relaxed ;  the}^  learn  to  trifle  with  sin, 
and,  trifling  with  sin,  to  disbelieve  in  the  retribution 
for  sin.  And  where  conscience  has  not  been  altogether 
destroyed  in  the  parent,  and  remorse  for  sin  begins 
to  prevail,  and  retribution  to  come,  it  is  not  what  he 
has  to  suffer  in  his  own  person  that  he  feels  most 
deeply,  but  what  has  to  be  borne  and  suffered  by  his 
children.  Does  any  one  ask  why  God  has  constituted 
society  so  that  the  innocent  are  thus  implicated  in  the 
sin  of  the  guilty  ?  The  answer  is,  that  this  arises  not 
from  God's  constitution,  but  from  man's  perversion  of 
it.  Why,  we  may  ask,  do  men  subvert  God's  moral 
order  ?  Why  do  they  break  down  His  fences  and 
embankments,  and,  contrary  to  the  Divine  plan,  let 
ruinous  streams  pour  their  destructive  waters  into 
their  homes  and  enclosures  ?  If  the  human  race  had 
preserved  from  the  beginning  the  constitution  which 
God  gave  them,  obeyed  His  law  both  individually  and 
as  a  social  body,  such  things  would  not'  have  been. 
But  reckless  man,  in  his  eagerness  to  have  his  own 
way,  disregards  the  Divine  arrangement,  and  plunges 
himself  and  his  family  into  the  depths  of  woe. 

There  is  something  even  beyond  this,  however,  that 
arrests  our  notice  in  the  behaviour  of  David.  Though 
Nathan  had  said  that  the  child  would  die,  he  set  himself 
most  earnestly,  by  praj^er  and  fasting,  to  get  God  to 
spare  him.  Was  this  not  a  strange  proceeding  ?  It 
could    be  justified  only   on    the    supposition    that    the 


xii.  13-25.]    PENITENCE  AND    CHASTISEMENT.                1S9  i 

i 

I 

Divine  judgment  was  modified  by  an  unexpressed  con-  i 

dition    tHat,    if  David   should   humble   himself  in  true  i 
repentance,  it  would  not  have  to  be  inflicted.     Anyhow, 
we  see  him  throwing  his  whole  soul  into  these  exercises  : 
engaging  in  them  so  earnestly  that  he  took  no  regular 

lood,  and  in  place  of  the  royal  bed  he  was  content  to  ^■ 

lie  upon  the  earth.     His  earnestness  in  this  was  well  ; 
fitted  to  show  the  difference  between  a  religious  service 
gone  through  with  becoming  reverence,   because  it  is 
the  proper  thing  to  do,  and  the  service  of  one  who  has 

a  definite  end  in   view,  who  seeks  a  definite  blessing,  | 

and  who  wrestles  with   God  to  obtain  it.     But  David  I 

had  no    valid    ground    for  expecting    that,  even  if  he  \ 

should  repent,  God  would  avert  the  judgment  from  the  \ 

child;  indeed,   the  reason  assigned  for  it  showed   the  \ 

contrary — because    he    had     given    occasion     to    the  ; 

enemies  of  the  Lord  to  blaspheme.  I 

And   so,   after  a  very  weary  and  dismal  week,  the  \ 

child   died.     But    instead  of  abandoning  himself  to  a  j 

tumult  of  distress  when  this  event  took  place,  he  alto-  \ 

gether  changed  his  demeanour.     His  spirit  became  calm,  I 

"he  arose  from  the  earth,  and  washed,  and  anointed  \ 

himself,  and  changed  his  apparel,  and  he  came  into  the  | 

house  of  the  Lord  and  worshipped  ;  then  he  came  to  I 

his  own   house,  and  when  he  required,  they  set  bread  | 

before  him,  and  he  did  eat."     It  seemed  to  his  servants  | 

a  strange  proceeding.     The  answer  of  David  showed  | 

that  there  was  a  rational  purpose  in  it.     So  long  as  he  f 

thought  it  possible  that  the  child's  life  might  be  spared,  [ 
he  not  only  continued  to  pray  to  that  effect,  but  he  did 
everything  to  prevent  his  attention  from  being  turned 
to  anything  else,  he  did  everything  to  concentrate  his 
soul  on  that  one  object,  and  to  let  it  appear  to  God 
how  thoroughly  it  occupied   his   mind.     The  death  of 


IQO  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL,  J 

"i 

I 

the  child  showed  that  it  was  not  God's  will  to  grant       | 
his   petition,  notwithstanding  his  deep  repentance  and      ^  _ 
earnest  prayer  and  fasting.     All  suspense  was  now  at       ; 
an  end,  and,  therefore,  all  reason  for  continuing  to  fast 
and    pray.       For    David    to    abandon    himself   to    the 
wailings  of  aggravated  grief  at  this  moment  would  have 
been  highly  wrong.     It  would  have  been    to   quarrel 
with  the  will  of  God.     It  would  have  been  to  challenge 
God's  right  to  view  the  child  as  one  with  its  father,  and 
treat  it  accordingly. 

And  there  was  yet  another  reason.  If  his  heart  still 
yearned  on  the  child,  the  re-union  was  not  impossible, 
though  it  could  not  take  place  in  this  life.  ^'  I  shall  go 
to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return  unto  me."  The  glimpse 
of  the  future  expressed  in  these  words  is  touching  and 
beautiful.  The  relation  between  David  and  that  little 
child  is  not  ended.  Though  the  mortal  remains  shall 
soon  crumble,  father  and  child  are  not  yet  done  with  one 
another.  But  their  meeting  is  not  to  be  in  this  world. 
Meet  again  they  certainly  shall,  but  '^  I  shall  go  to  him, 
and  he  shall  not  return  to  me." 

And  this  glimpse  of  the  future  relation  of  parent  and       \ 
child,  separated  here  by  the  hand  of  death,   has  ever      J 
proved  most  comforting  to  bereaved  Christian  hearts.        • 
Very  touching  and  very  comforting  it  is  to  light  on  this        \ 
bright  view  of  the  future  at  so  early  a  period  of  Old        | 
Testament  history.     Words  cannot  express  the  desola-        | 
tion  of  heart  which  such  bereavements  cause.  .  When 
Rachel    is    weeping   for   her   children    she    cannot    be 
comforted  if  she  thinks  they  are  not.     But  a  new  light 
breaks  on  her  desolate  heart  when  she  is  assured  that 
she  may  go  to  them,  though  they  shall  not  return  to 
her.     Blessed,  truly,  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord, 
and,  however  painful   the   stroke  that  removed   them. 


xii.  13-25.]    PENITENCE  AND   CHASTISEMENT,  191 

blessed  are  their  surviving  friends.  Ye  shall  go  to 
them,  though  they  shall  not  return  to  you.  How  you 
are  to  recognise  them,  how  you  are  to  commune  with 
them,  in  what  place  they  shall  be,  in  what  condition  of 
consciousness,  you  cannot  tell;  but  "you  shall  go  to 
them  ;  "  the  separation  shall  be  but  temporary,  and 
who  can  conceive  the  joy  of  re-union,  re-union  never 
to  be  broken  by  separation  for  evermore  ? 

One  other  fact  we  must  notice  ere  passing  from  the 
record  of  David's  confession  and  chastisement, — the 
moral  courage  which  he  showed  in  delivering  the  fifty- 
first  Psalm  to  the  chief  musician,  and  thus  helping  to 
keep  alive  in  his  own  generation  and  for  all  time 
coming  the  memory  of  his  trespass.  Most  men  would 
have  thought  how  the  ugly  transaction  might  most 
effectually  be  buried,  and  would  have  tried  to  put  their 
best  face  on  it  before  their  people.  Not  so  David.  He 
was  willing  that  his  people  and  all  posterity  should  see 
him  the  atrocious  transgressor  he  was — let  them  think 
of  him  as  they  pleased.  He  saw  that  this  everlasting 
exposure  of  his  vileness  was  essential  towards  extract- 
ing from  the  miserable  transaction  such  salutary  lessons 
as  it  might  be  capable  of  yielding.  With  a  wonderful 
effort  of  magnanimity,  he  resolved  to  place  himself  in 
the  pillory  of  public  shame,  to  expose  his  memory  to  all 
the  foul  treatment  which  the  scoffers  and  libertines  of 
every  after-age  might  think  fit  to  heap  on  it.  It  is 
unjust  to  David,  when  unbelievers  rail  against  him  for 
his  sin  in  the  matter  of  Uriah,  to  overlook  the  fact  that 
the  first  public  record  of  the  transaction  came  from  his 
own  pen,  and  was  delivered  to  the  chief  musician,  for 
public  use.  Infidels  may  scoff,  but  this  narrative  will 
be  a  standing  proof  that  the  foolishness  of  God  is 
wiser  than  men.     The  view  given  to  God's  servants  of 


192                  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  \ 

the    weakness  and  deceitfulness  of  their  hearts ;    the  ; 
warning  against  dallying  with  the  first  movements  of 

sin  ;  the  sight  of  the  misery  which  follows  in  its  wake ;  j 

the  encouragement  which  the  convicted  sinner  has  to  .j 

humble    himself  before    God ;    the    impulse    given    to  | 

penitential  feeling  ;  the  hope  of  mercy  awakened  in  the  \ 

breasts  of  the  despairing  ;  the  softer,  humbler,   holier  \ 

walk  when  pardon  has  been  got  and  peace  restored, —  1 

such  lessons  as   these,   afforded  in   every  age  by  this  •  ■ 

narrative,  will  render  it  to  thoughtful  hearts  a  constant  \ 

ground  for   magnifying  God.       "  O  the   depth  of  the  j 

jiches    both  of   the  wisdom  and  knowledge    of    God  !  ' 
how  unsearchable  are    His  judgments,   and  His  ways 
past  finding  out !  " 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ABSALOM  AND  AMNON, 
2  Samuel  xiii.  i — yj. 

A  LIVING    sorrow,    says    the    proverb,    is    worse 
than  a  dead.     The  dead  sorrow  had  been    very 
grievous  to  David  ;  what  the    living  sorrow,  of  which 
this  chapter  tells  us,  must  have  been,  we  cannot  con- 
ceive.    It  is  his  own  disorderly  lusts,  reappearing   in  \ 
his  sons,  that  are  the  source  of  this  new  tragedy.     It 
is  often  useful  for  parents  to  ask  whether  they  would          \ 
like  to  see  their  children  doing  what  they  allow  in  them-          \ 
selves  ;  and  in  many  cases  the  answer  is  an  emphatic          I 
"No."    David  is  now  doomed  to  see  his  children  follow-         I 
ing  his  own  evil  example,  only  with  added  circumstances         \ 
of  atrocity.     Adultery  and  murder  had  been  introduced         ; 
by  him  into  the  palace ;  when  he  is  done  with  them         | 
they  remain  to  be  handled  by  his  sons.                                   | 
It  is  a  very  repulsive  picture  of  sensuality  that  this         | 
chapter  presents.     One  would  suppose  that  Amnon  and         | 
Absalom  had  been  accustomed  to  the   wild   orgies   of         \ 
pagan  idolatry.     Nathan  had  rebuked  David  because  he         f 
had  given  occasion  to  the  enemies  of  the  Lord  to  bias-         \ 
pheme.     He  had  afforded  them  a  pretext  for  denying 
the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  regeneration  and  sancti- 
fication,  and  for  affirming  that  so-called  holy  men  were 
just  like    the  rest  of   mankind.       This  in   God's    eyes 
was  a  grievous  offence.     Amnon  and  Absalom  are  now        [ 
VOL.  II.                                                                  13                     { 


194  ^-^-^  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


guilty  of  the  same  offence  in  another  form^  because  they 
afford  a  pretext  for  ungodly  men  to  say  that  the  families 
of  holy  men  are  no  better — perhaps  that  they  are  worse 
— than  other  families.  But  as  David  himself  in  the 
matter  of  Uriah  is  an  exception  to  the  ordinary  lives  of 
godly  men,  so  his  home  is  an  exception  to  the  ordinary 
tone  and  spirit  of  religious  households.  Happily  we 
are  met  with  a  very  different  ideal  when  we  look 
behind  the  scenes  into  the  better  class  of  Christian 
homes,  whether  high  or  low.  It  is  a  beautiful  picture 
of  the  Christian  home,  according  to  the  Christian  ideal, 
we  find,  for  example,  in  Milton's  Comiis — pure  brothers, 
admiring  a  dear  sister's  purity,  and  jealous  lest,  alone 
in  the  world,  she  should  fall  ya  the  way  of  any  of  those 
bloated  monsters  that  would  drag  an  angel  into  their 
filthy  sty.  Commend  us  to  those  homes  where 
brothers  and  sisters,  sharing  many  a  game,  and  with 
still  greater  intimacy  pouring  into  each  other's  ears 
their  inner  thoughts  and  feelings,  never  utter  a  jest,  or 
word,  or  allusion  with  the  slightest  taint  of  indelicacy, 
and  love  and  honour  each  other  with  all  the  higher 
affection  that  none  of  them  has  ever  been  near  the 
haunts  of  pollution.  It  is  easy  to  ridicule  innocence, 
to  scoff  at  young  men  who  "  flee  youthful  lusts  ;  "  yet 
who  will  say  that  the  youth  who  is  steeped  in  fashion- 
able sensuality  is  worthy  to  be  the  brother  and  companion 
of  pure-minded  maidens,  or  that  his  breath  will  not 
contaminate  the  atmosphere  of  their  home  ?  What 
easy  victories  Belial  gains  over  many  !  How  easily  he 
persuades  them  that  vice  is  manly,  that  impurity  is 
grand,  that  the  pig's  sty  is  a  delightful  place  to  lie 
down  in !  How  easily  he  induces  them  to  lay  snares 
for  female  chastity,  and  put  the  devil's  mask  on  woman's 
soul !     But  ^'  God  is  not  mocked  ;  whatsoever  a  m.an 


xiii.  1-37.]  ABSALOM  AND   AMNOiV. 


19s 


soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap  ;  for  he  that  soweth  to       \ 

the  flesh  shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption,  while  he       I 

that  soweth  to  the  Spirit  shall  of  the  Spirit  reap  life       I 

everlasting."  | 

In  Scripture  some  men  have  very  short  biographies ;       \ 

Amnon  is  one  of  these.     And,  like  Cain,  all  that  is  re-        J 

corded  of  him  has  the  mark  of  infamy.     We  can  easily        f 

understand  that  it  was  a  great  disaster  to  him  to  be        | 

a  king's  son.     To  have  his  position  in  life  determined        ! 

and  all  his  wants  supplied  without  an  effort  on  his  part ;        I 

to  be  surrounded  by  such  plenty  that  the  wholesome        ! 

necessity  of  denying  himself  was  unknown,  and  what-        { 

ever  he  fancied  was  at  once  obtained ;  to  be  so  accus-        | 

tomed    to    indulge    his  legitimate    feelings    that    when 

illegitimate  desires  rose  up  it  seemed  but  natural  that        | 

they  too  should  be  gratified ;  thus  to  be  led  on  in  the 

evil  ways  of  sensual  pleasure  till  his  appetite  became  at 

once  bloated  and    irrepressible;   to  be  surrounded  by 

parasites  and    flatterers,   that   would    make  a  point  of 

never  crossing  him  nor  uttering  a  disagreeable  word, 

but  constantly   encouraging    his  tastes, — all    this    was 

extremely  dangerous.     And  when  his    father   had    set 

him  the  example,  it  was  hardly  possible  "he  would  avoid         | 

the  snare.     There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  before         | 

he  is  presented  to  us  in  this  chapter  he  was  already         | 

steeped  in  sensuality.     It  was  his  misfortune  to  have  a         | 

friend,  Jonadab,  the  son  of  Shimeah,  David's  brother,         I 

"  a  very  subtil  man,"  who  at  heart  must  have  been  as         f 

great  a  profligate  as  himself.     For  if  Jonadab  had  been         ; 

anything  but  a  profligate,  Amnon    would   never   have 

confided  to  him  his  odious  desire  with  reference  to  his 

half-sister,  and  Jonadab  would  never  have  given  him 

the  advice  that  he  did.     What  a  blessing  to  Amnon,  at 

this  stage  of  the  tragedy,  would  have  been  the  faithful 


196  THE  SECOND  BOOK   OF  SAMUEL. 

advice  of  an  honest  friend — one  who  would  have  had 
the  courage  to  declare  the  infamy  of  his  proposal,  and 
who  would  have  so  placed  it  in  the  light  of  truth  that 
it  would  have  shocked  and  horrified  even  Amnon  him- 
self! In  reality,  the  friend  was  more  guilty  than  the 
culprit.  The  one  was  blinded  by  passion  ;  the  other 
was  self-possessed  and  cool.  The  cool  man  encourages 
the  heated;  the  sober  mxan  urges  on  the  intoxicated. 
O  ye  sons  of  wealth  and  profligacy,  it  is  sad  enough 
that  you  are  often  so  tempted  by  the  lusts  that  rise  up 
in  your  own  bosoms,  but  it  is  worse  to  be  exposed  to 
the  friendship  of  wretches  who  never  study  your  real 
good,  but  encourage  you  to  indulge  the  vilest  of  your 
appetites,  and  smooth  for  you  the  way  to  hell  ! 

The  plan  which  Jonadab  proposes  for  Amnon  to 
obtain  the  object  of  his  desire  is  founded  on  a  stratagem 
which  he  is  to  practise  on  his  father.  He  is  to  pretend 
sickness,  and  under  this  pretext  to  get  matters  arranged 
by  his  father  as  he  would  like.  To  practise  deceit  on  a 
father  was  a  thing  not  unknown  even  among  the  founders 
of  the  nation ;  Jacob  and  Jacob's  sons  had  resorted  to 
it  alike.  But  it  had  been  handed  down  with  the  mark 
of  disgrace  attached  to  it  by  God  Himself.  In  spite  of 
this  it  was  counted  both  by  Jonadab  and  Amnon  a 
suitable  weapon  for  their  purpose.  And  so,  as  every 
one  knows,  it  is  counted  not  only  a  suitable,  but  a 
smart  and  laughable,  device,  in  stage  plays  without 
number,  and  by  the  class  of  persons  whose  moraHty 
is  reflected  by  the  popular  stage.  Who  so  suitable  a 
person  to  be  made  a  fool  of  as  "  the  governor  "  ?  Who 
so  little  to  be  pitied  when  he  becomes  the  dupe  of 
his  children's  cunning  ?  ''  Honour  thy  father  and  thy 
mother,"  was  once  proclaimed  in  thunder  from  Sinai, 
and  not  only  men's  hearts  trembled,  but  the  very  earth 


xiii.  1-37.]  ABSALOM  AND  AMNON.  197 

shook  at  the  voice.  But  these  were  old  times  and  old- 
fashioned  people.  Treat  your  father  and  mother  as 
useful  and  convenient  tools,  inasmuch  as  they  have 
control  of  the  purse,  of  which  you  are  often  in  want. 
But  as  they  are  not  hkely  to  approve  of  the  objects  for 
which  you  would  spend  their  money ;  as  they  are  sure, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  disapprove  of  them  strongly, 
exercise  your  ingenuity  in  hoodwinking  them  as  to 
your  doings,  and  if  your  stratagem  succeed,  enjoy  your 
chuckle  at  the  bUndness  and  simplicity  of  the  poor  old 
fools  !  If  this  be  the  course  that  commends  itself  to 
any  son  or  daughter,  it  indicates  a  heart  so  perverted 
that  it  would  be  most  difficult  to  bring  it  to  any  sense 
of  sin.  All  we  would  say  is,  See  what  kind  of  com- 
rades you  have  in  this  poHcy  of  deceiving  parents.  See 
this  royal  blackguard,  Amnon,  and  his  villainous  adviser 
Jonadab,  resorting  to  the  very  same  method  for  hood- 
winking King  David  ;  see  them  making  use  of  this 
piece  of  machinery  to  compass  an  act  of  the  grossest 
villainy  that  ever  was  heard  of ;  and  say  whether  you 
hold  the  device  to  be  commended  by  their  example,  and 
whether  you  feel  honoured  in  treading  a  course  that 
has  been  marked  before  you  by  such  footprints. 

If  anything  more  was  needed  to  show  the  accom- 
plished villainy  of  Amnon,  it  is  his  treatment  of  Tamar 
after  he  has  violently  compassed  her  ruin.  It  is  the 
story  so  often  repeated  even  at  this  day, — the  ruined 
victim  flung  aside  in  dishonour,  and  left  unpitied  to 
her  shame.  There  is  no  trace  of  any  compunction  on 
the  part  of  Amnon  at  the  moral  murder  he  has  com- 
mitted, at  the  life  he  has  ruined ;  no  pity  for  the  once 
blithe  and  happy  maiden  whom  he  has  doomed  to 
humiUation  and  woe.  She  has  served  his  purpose, 
king's  daughter  though  she  is  ;  let  her  crawl  into  the 


198  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 


earth  like  a  poor  worm  to  live  or  to  die,  in  want  or  in 
misery ;  it  is  nothing  to  him.  The  only  thing  about  her 
that  he  cares  for  is,  that  she  may  never  again  trouble 
him  with  her  existence,  or  disturb  the  easy  flow  of  his 
life.  We  think  of  those  men  of  the  olden  time  as  utter 
barbarians  who  confined  their  foes  in  dismal  dungeons, 
making  their  lives  a  continual  torture,  and  denying  them 
the  slightest  solace  to  the  miseries  of  captivity.  But 
what  shall  we  say  of  those,  high-born  and  wealthy 
men,  it  may  be,  who  doom  their  cast-off  victims  to  an 
existence  of  wretchedness  and  degradation  which  has 
no  gleam  of  enjoyment,  compared  with  which  the  silence 
and  loneliness  of  a  prison  would  be  a  luxury  ?  Can  the 
selfishness  of  sin  exhibit  itself  anywhere  or  anyhow 
more  terribly  ?  What  kind  of  heart  can  be  left  to  the 
seducer,  so  hardened  as  to  smother  the  faintest  touch  of 
pity  for  the  woman  he  has  mxade  wretched  for  ever ;  so 
savage  as  to  drive  from  him  with  the  roughest  execra- 
tions the  poor  confiding  creature  without  whom  he 
used  to  vow,  in  the  days  of  her  unsuspecting  innocence, 
that  he  knew  not  how  to  live  ! 

In  a  single  word,  our  attention  is  now  turned  to  the 
father  of  both  Amnon  and  Tamar.  "  When  King  David 
heard  of  all  these  things,  he  was  very  wroth."  Little 
wonder  !  But  was  this  all  ?  Was  no  punishment 
found  for  Amnon  ?  Was  he  allowed  to  remain  in  the 
palace,  the  oldest  son  of  the  king,  with  nothing  to  mark 
his  father's  displeasure,  notliing  to  neutraHse  his  in- 
fluence with  the  other  royal  children,  nothing  to  prevent 
the  repetition  of  his  wickedness  ?  Tamar,  of  course, 
was  a  woman.  Was  it  for  this  reason  that  nothing 
was  done  to  punish  her  destroyer  ?  It  does  not  appear 
that  his  position  was  in  any  way  changed.  We  cannot 
but  be  indignant  at  the  inactivity  of  David.     Yet  when 


xiii.  1-37.]  ABSALOM  AND  AMNON.  199 

we  think  of  the  past,  we  need  not  be  surprised.  David 
was  too  much  implicated  in  the  same  sins  to  be  able  to 
inflict  suitable  punishment  for  them.  It  is  those  whose 
hands  are  clean  that  can  rebuke  the  offender.  Let 
others  try  to  administer  reproof — their  own  hearts  con- 


demn them,  and  they  shrink  from  the  task.     Even  the  | 

king  of  Israel  must  wink  at  the  offences  of  his  son.  \ 

But  if  David  winked,  Absalom  did  nothing  of  the 
kind.  Such  treatment  of  his  full  sister,  if  the  king 
chose    to  let  it    alone,  could  not  be   let  alone   by  the  j 

proud,  indignant  brother.     He  nursed  his  wrath,  and  j 

watched    for    his    opportunity.     Nothing   short   of   the  1 

death  of  Amnon  would  suffice  him.     And  that   death  \ 

must  be  compassed  not  in  open  fight  but  by  assassina-  \ 

tion.     At   last,   after   two   full   years,   his    opportunity  I 

came.     A  sheepshearing  at  Baal-hazor   gave   occasion  | 

for  a  feast,  to  which  the  king  and  all  his  sons  should  ! 

be  asked.  His  father  excused  himself  on  the  ground 
of  the  expense.  Absalom  was  most  unwilling  to 
receive  the  excuse,  reckoning  probably  that  the  king's 
presence  would  more  completely  ward  off  any  suspicion 
of  his  purpose,  and  utterly  heedless  of  the  anguish  his  ■ 

father  would  have  felt  when  he  found  that,  while  asked  \ 

professedly  to   a   feast,  it  was   really  to  the   murder  | 

of  his  eldest  son.     David,  however,  refuses  firmly,  but  | 

he   gives   Absalom    his    blessing.     Whether   this   was         | 
meant  in  the  sense  in  which  Isaac  blessed  Jacob,  or  | 

whether  it  was   merely  an  ordinary  occasion  of  com-  \ 

mending  Absalom  to  the  grace  of  God,  it  was  a  touch- 
ing act,  and  it  might  have  arrested  the  arm  that  was 
preparing  to  deal  such  a  fatal  blow  to  Amnon.  On  the 
contrary,  Absalom  only  availed  himself  of  his  father's 
expression  of  kindly  feeling  to  beg  that  he  would  allow 
Amnon  to  be  present.     And  he  succeeded  so  well  that 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


permission  was  given,  not  to  Amnon  only,  but  to  all 
the  king's  sons.  To  Absalom's  farm  at  Baal-hazor 
accordingly  they  went,  and  we  may  be  sure  that 
nothing  would  be  spared  to  make  the  banquet  worthy 
of  a  royal  family.  And  now,  while  the  wine  is  flowing 
freely,  and  the  buzz  of  jovial  talk  fills  the  apartment, 
and  all  power  of  action  on  the  part  of  Amnon  is  arrested 
by  the  stupefying  influence  of  wine,  the  signal  is  given 
for  his  murder.  See  how  closely  Absalom  treads  in 
the  footsteps  of  his  father  when  he  summons  intoxi- 
cating drink  to  his  aid,  as  David  did  to  Uriah,  when 
trying  to  make  a  screen  of  him  for  his  own  guilt.  Yes, 
from  the  beginning,  drink,  or  some  other  stupefying 
agent,  has  been  the  ready  ally  of  the  worst  criminals, 
either  preparing  the  victim  for  the  slaughter  or  madden- 
ing the  murderer  for  the  deed.  But  wherever  it  has 
been  present  it  has  only  made  the  tragedy  more  awful 
and  the  aspect  of  the  crime  more  hideous.  Give  a 
wide  berth,  ye  servants  of  God,  to  an  agent  with  which 
the  devil  has  ever  placed  himself  in  such  close  anc 
deadly  alliance ! 

It  is  not  easy  to  paint  the  blackness  of  the  crime  of 
Absalom.  We  have  nothing  to  say  for  Amnon,  who 
seems  to  have  been  a  man  singularly  vile ;  but  there 
is  something  very  appalling  in  his  being  murdered  by 
the  order  of  his  brother,  something  very  cold-blooded 
in  Absalom's  appeal  to  the  assassins  not  to  flinch  from 
their  task,  something  very  revolting  in  the  flagrant 
violation  of  the  laws  of  hospitality,  and  something  not 
less  daring  in  the  deed  being  done  in  the  midst  of  the 
feast,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  guests.  When  Shake- 
speare would  paint  the  murder  of  a  royal  guest,  the 
deed  is  done  in  the  dead  of  night,  with  no  living 
eye  to  witness  it,  with  no  living  arm  at  hand  capable 


xiii.  1-37.]  ABSALOM  AND  AMNON.  -  201 

of  arresting  the  murderous  weapon.  But  here  is  a 
murderer  of  his  guest  who  does  not  scruple  to  have 
the  deed  done  in  broad  dayhght  in  presence  of  all  his  | 

guests,  in  presence  of  all  the  brothers  of  his  victim,  | 

while  the  walls  resound  to  the  voice  of  mirth,  and  each  I 

face   is   radiant  with    festive   excitement.       Out   from  | 

some  place  of  concealment  rush  the  assassins  with  their 
deadly  weapons ;  next  moment  the  life-blood  of  Amnon 
spurts  on  the  table,  and  his  lifeless  body  falls  heavily 
to  the  ground.  Before  the  excitement  and  horror  of 
the  assembled  guests  has  subsided  Absalom  has  made 
his  escape,  and  before  any  step  can  be  taken  to  pursue 
him  he  is  beyond  reach  in  Geshur  in  Syria. 

Meanwhile  an  exaggerated  report  of  the  tragedy 
reaches  King  David's  ears, — Absalom  has  slain  all  the 
king's  sons,  and  there  is  not  one  of  them  left.  Evil, 
at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  must  have  been  David's 
opinion  of  him  when  he  beheved  the  story,  even  in 
this  exaggerated  form.  ^'  The  king  arose  and  rent 
his  clothes,  and  lay  on  the  earth  ;  and  all  his  servants 
stood  round  with  their  clothes  rent."  Nor  was  it  till 
Jonadab,  his  cousin,  assured  him  that  only  Amnon 
could  be  dead,  that  the  terrible  impression  of  a  whole- 
sale massacre  was  removed  from  his  mind.  But  who 
can  fancy  what  the  circumstances  must  have  been, 
when  it  became  a  relief  to  David  to  know  that 
Absalom  had  murdered  but  one  of  his  brothers  ? 
Jonadab  evidently  thought  that  David  did  not  need 
to  be  much  surprised,  inasmuch  as  this  murder  was 
a  foregone  conclusion  with  Absalom;  it  had  been 
determined  on  ever  since  the  day  when  Amnon  forced 
Tamar.  Here  is  a  new  light  on  the  character  of 
Jonadab.  He  knew  that  Absalom  had  determined 
that  Amnon  should  die.     It  was    no  surprise  to  him 


THE  SECOND  BOOK   OF  SAMUEL. 


to  hear  that  this  purpose  was  carried  out  with  effect. 
Why  did  he  not  warn  Amnon  ?  Could  it  be  that  he 
had  been  bribed  over  to  the  side  of  Absalom  ?  He  \ 
knew  the  real  state  of  the  case  before  the  king's  sons  \ 
arrived.  For  when  they  did  appear  he  appealed  to  \ 
David  whether  his  statement,  previously  given,  was  ' 
not  correct. 

And  now  the  first  part  of  the  retribution  denounced 
by    Nathan    begins    to    be    fulfilled,   and   fulfilled   very        ' 
fearfully, — 'Uhe    sword    shall    never   depart    from   thy         '; 
house."     Ancient  history  abounds  in  frightful  stories,         I 
stories   of  murder,  incest,  and  revenge,  the  materials,         ; 
real  or  fabulous,  from  which  were  formed  the  tragedies 
of  the  great  Greek  dramatists.     But  nothing  in  their         1 
dramas  is  more  tragic  than  the  crime  of  Amnon,  the         ; 
incest  of  Tamar,  and  the  revenge  of  Absalom.     What         \ 
David's  feelings  m.ust  have  been  we  can  hardly  conceive.         ■; 
What  must  he  have  felt  as  he  thought  of  the  death  of         ; 
Amnon,  slain  by  his  brother's  command,  in  his  brother's 
house,  at  his  brother's  table,  and  hurried  to  God's  judg- 
ment while   his   brain  w^as  reeling  with   intoxication  \         ' 
What  a  pang  must  have  been  shot  by  the  recollection  \ 

how  David  had  once  tried,  for  his  own  base  ends,  to 
intoxicate   Uriah  as  Absalom  had  intoxicated  Amnon  !  \ 

It  does  not  appear  that  David's  grief  over  Amnon  was  i 

of  the  passionate  kind  that  he  showed  afterwards  when  j 

Absalom  was  slain ;  but,  though  quieter,  it  must  have  i 

been  very  bitter.     How  could  he    but  be   filled  with  '] 

anguish   when  he  thought  of  his    son,   hurried,   while  1 

drunk,  by  his  brother's  act,  into  the  presence  of  God,  to 
answer  for  the  worse  than  murder  of  his  sister,  and  for 
all  the  crimes  and  sins  of  an  ill-spent  life  !  What  hope 
could  he  entertain  for  the  welfare  of  his  soul  ?  What 
balm  could  he  find  for  such  a  wound  ? 


iii.  1-37.]  ABSALOM  AND  AMNON,  203 

And  it  was  not  Amnon  only  he  had  to  think  of. 
These  three  of  his  children,  Amnon,  Tamar,  Absalom, 
in  one  sense  or  another,  were  now  total  wrecks.  From 
these  three  branches  of  his  family  tree  no  fruit  could 
ever  come.  Nor  could  the  dead  now  bury  its  dead. 
Neither  the  remembrance  nor  the  effect  of  the  past 
could  ever  be  wiped  out.  It  baffles  us  to  think  how 
David  was  able  to  carry  such  grief.  ''  David  mourned 
for  his  son  every  day."  It  was  only  the  lapse  of  time 
that  could  blunt  the  edge  of  his  distress. 

But  surely  there  must  have  been  terrible  faults  in 
David's  upbringing  of  his  family  before  such  results  as 
these  could  come.  Undoubtedly  there  were.  First  of 
all,  there  was  the  number  of  his  wives.  This  could  not 
fail  to-be  a  source  of  much  jealousy  and  discord  among 
them  and  their  children,  especially  when  he  himself 
was  absent,  as  he  must  often  have  been,  for  long 
periods  at  a  time.  Then  there  was  his  own  example,  so 
unguarded,  so  unhallowed,  at  a  point  where  the  utmost 
care  and  vigilance  had  need  to  be  shown.  Thirdly, 
there  seems  to  have  been  an  excessive  tenderness  of 
feeling  towards  his  children,  and  towards  some  of  them  [. 

in   particular.     He   could  not  bear    to   disappoint;  his  | 

feelings  got  the  better  of  his  judgment ;  when  the  child  \ 

insisted  the  father  weakly  gave  way.      He  wanted  the  | 

firmness  and  the  faithfulness  of  Abraham,  of  whom  God  I 

had  said,  ''  I  know  him  that  he  will  command  his  children  | 

and  his  household  after  him,  and  they  shall  keep  the 
way  of  the  Lord  to  do  justice  and  judgment."  Perhaps, 
too,  busy  and  often  much  pressed  as  he  was  with  affairs 
of  state,  occupied  with  foreign  wars,  with  internal  im- 
provements, and  the  daily  administration  of  justice,  he 
looked  on  his  house  as  a  place  of  simple  relaxation  and 
enjoyment,  rnd  forgot  that  there,  too,  he  had  a  solemn 


204  THE   SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

charge  and  most  important  duty.  Thus  it  was  that 
David  failed  in  his  domestic  management.  It  is  easy 
to  spy  out  his  defects,  and  easy  to  condemn  him.  But 
let  each  of  you  who  have  a  family  to  bring  up  look  to 
himself.  You  have  not  all  David's  difficulties,  but  you 
may  have  some  of  them.  The  precept  and  the  promise 
is,  ''Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and 
when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it."  It  is  not 
difficult  to  know  the  way  he  should  go — the  difficulty 
lies  in  the  words,  "  Train  up."  To  train  up  is  not  to 
force,  nor  is  it  merely  to  lay  down  the  law,  or  to  enforce 
the  law.  It  is  to  get  the  whole  nature  of  the  child  to 
move  freely  in  the  direction  wished.  To  do  this  needs 
on  the  part  of  the  parent  a  combination  of  firmness 
and  love,  of  patience  and  decision,  of  consistent  example 
and  sympathetic  encouragement.  But  it  needs  also,  on 
the  part  of  God,  and  therefore  to  be  asked  in  earnest, 
believing  prayer,  that  wondrous  power  which  touches 
the  springs  of  the  heart,  and  draws  it  to  Him  and  to 
His  ways.  Only  by  this  combination  of  parental  faith- 
fulness and  Divine  grace  can  we  look  for  the  blessed 
result,  ''  when  he  is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it." 


CHAPTER   XVIII.  I 

•   t 
ABSALOM  BANISHED  AND   BROUGHT  BACK 

2  Samuel  xiii.  38,  39 ;  xiv. 

GESHUR,  to  which  Absalom  fled  after  the  murder 
of  Amnon,  accompanied  in  all  likelihood  by  the 
men  who  had  slain  him,  was  a  small  kingdom  in  Syria, 
lying  between  Mount  Hermon  and  Damascus.     Maacah, 
Absalom's  mother,  was  the   daughter  of  Talmai,  king 
of  Geshur,  so  that  Absalom  was  there  among  his  own 
relations.     There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  Talmai 
and  his  people  had   renounced  the  idolatrous  worship 
that  prevailed  in  Syria.     For  David  to  ally  himself  in 
marriage  with  an  idolatrous  people  was  not  in  accord- 
ance with  the  law.     In  law,  Absalom  must  have  been 
a   Hebrew,  circumcised   the  eighth  day ;  but  in   spirit 
he  would   probably  have  no  Httle   sympathy  with   his 
mother's  religion.     His  utter  alienation  in  heart  from 
his  father ;  the  unconcern  with  which  he  sought  to  drive 
from  the  throne   the  man  who  had  been  so  solemnly 
called  to  it  by  God ;  the  vow  which   he  pretended  to 
have  taken,  when  away  in  Syria,  that  if  he  were  invited 
back  to  Jerusalem  he  would  "serve  the  Lord,"  all  point 
to  a  man  infected  in  no  small  degree  with  the  spirit,  if 
not  addicted  to  the  practice,  of  idolatry.     And  the  tenor 
of  his  life,  so  full  of  cold-blooded  wickedness,  exemplified 
well  the  influence  of  idolatry,  which  bred  neither  fear 
of  God  nor  love  of  man. 


2o6  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


We  have  seen  that  Amnon  had  not  that  profound 
hold  on  David's  heart  which  Absalom  had ;  and  there- 
fore it  is  little  wonder  that  when  time  had  subdued 
the  keen  sensation  of  horror,  the  king  ''  was  comforted 
concerning  Amnon,  seeing  he  was  dead."  There  was  no 
great  blank  left  in  his  heart,  no  irrepressible  craving 
of  the  soul  for  the  return  of  the  departed.  But  it  was 
otherwise  in  the  case  of  Absalom, — ''  the  king's  heart 
was  towards  him."  David  was  in  a  painful  dilemma, 
placed  between  two  opposite  impulses,  the  judicial  and 
the  paternal  ;  the  judicial  calling  for  the  punishment  of 
Absalom,  the  paternal  craving  his  restoration.  Absalom 
in  the  most  flagrant  way  had  broken  a  law  older  even 
than  the  Sinai  legislation,  for  it  had  been  given  to  Noah 
after  the  flood — "Whoso  sheddeth  man's  blood,  by 
man  shall  his  blood  be  shed."  But  the  deep  affection 
of  David  for  Absalom  not  only  caused  him  to  shrink 
from  executing  that  law,  but  made  him  most  desirous 
to  have  him  near  him  again,  pardoned,  penitent  as  he 
no  doubt  hoped,  and  enjoying  all  the  rights  and  privi- 
leges of  the  king's  son.  The  first  part  of  the  chapter 
now  before  us  records  the  manner  in  which  David,  in 
great  weakness,  sacrificed  the  judicial  to  the  paternal, 
sacrificed  his  judgment  to  his  feeHngs,  and  the  welfare 
of  the  kingdom  for  the  gratification  of  his  affection. 
For  it  was  too  evident  that  Absalom  was  not  a  fit  man 
to  succeed  David  on  the  throne.  If  Saul  was  unfit  to 
rule  over  God's  people,  and  as  God's  vicegerent,  much 
more  was  Absalom.  Not  only  was  he  not  the  right 
kind  of  man,  but,  as  his  actions  had  showed,  he  was  the 
very  opposite.  By  his  own  wicked  deed  he  was  now  an 
outlaw  and  an  exile ;  he  was  out  of  sight  and  likely 
to  pass  out  of  mind ;  and  it  was  most  undesirable  that 
any  step  should  be  taken  to  bring  him  back  among  the 


xili.  38,  39;  xiv.]  ABSALOM  BANISHED.  lo^ 

people,  and  give  him  every  chance  of  the  succession. 
Yet  in  spite  of  all  this  the  king  in  his  secret  heart 
desired  to  get  Absalom  back.  And  Joab,  not  studying 
the  welfare  of  the  kingdom,  but  having  regard  only  to 
the  strong  wishes  of  the  king  and  of  the  heir-apparent, 

devised  a  scheme  for  fulfilling  their  desire.  ; 

That  collision  of  the  paternal  and  the  judicial,  which  , 

David  removed  by  sacrificing  the  judicial,  brings  to  our  j 

mind   a   discord  of  the  same  kind  on  a  much  greater  | 

scale,   which   received   a  solution    of  a    very   different  | 

kind.     The  sin  of  man  created  the  same  difticulty  in  | 

the  government  of  God.     The  judicial  spirit,  demand-  1 

ing  man's   punishment,   came    into    coUision   with   the  p 

paternal,  desiring   his   happiness.     How  were  they  to  i; 

be  reconciled  ?     This  is  the  great  question  on  which  i^ 

the  priests  of  the  world,  when  unacquainted  with  Divine  \ 

revelation,  have  perplexed  themselves  since  the  world  | 

began.     When  we  study  the  world's  religions,  we  see  [ 

very  clearly   that   it  has   never  been   held   satisfactory  j 

to  solve   the   problem   as   David   solved   his   difficulty,  | 

by   simply   sacrificing  the  judicial.     The  human   con-  | 

science    refuses    to    accept    of  such    a   settlement.     It  \ 

demands  that  some  satisfaction  shall  be  made  to  that  | 

law  of  which  the  Divine  Judge  is  the  administrator.     It  | 

cannot  bear  to  see  God  abandoning  His  judgment-seat  | 

in    order    that    He   may    show    indiscriminate    mercy.  | 

Fantastic    and    foolish    in    the    last    degree,   grim  and  | 

repulsive  too,  in  many  cases,  have  been  the  devices  by  I 

v/hich    it   has    been    sought    to    supply   the    necessary  \ 
satisfaction.     The  awful  sacrifices  of  Moloch,  the  muti- 
lations   of  Juggernaut,    the    penances    of  popery,   are 

most  repulsive   solutions,  while  they  all  testify  to  the  \ 

intuitive  conviction  of  mankind  that  something  in  the  ! 

form  of  atonement  is  indispensable.     But  if  these  solu-  \ 


2oS  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

tions  repel  us,  not  less  satisfactory  is  the  opposite  view, 
now  so  current,  that  nothing  in  the  shape  of  sin-offering 
is  necessary,  that  no  consideration  needs  to  be  taken 
of  the  judicial,  that  the  infinite  clemency  of  God  is 
adequate  to  deal  with  the  case,  and  that  a  true  belief 
in  His  most  loving  fatherhood  is  all  that  is  required  for 
the  forgiveness  and  acceptance  of  His  erring  children. 
In  reality  this  is  no  solution  at  all ;  it  is  just  David's 
method  of  sacrificing  the  judicial ;  it  satisfies  no  healthy 
conscience,  it  brings  solid  peace  to  no  troubled  soul. 
The  true  and  only  solution,  by  which  due  regard  is 
shown  both  to  the  judicial  and  the  paternal,  is  that 
which  is  so  fully  unfolded  and  enforced  in  the  Epistles 
of  St.  Paul.  ^'  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world 
unto  Himself,  not  imputing  unto  men  their  trespasses.  . . . 
For  He  hath  made  Him  to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew  no 
sin,  that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God 
in  Him." 

Returning  to  the  narrative,  we  have  next  to  examine 
the  stratagem  of  Joab,  designed  to  commit  the  king 
unwittingly  to  the  recall  of  Absalom.  The  idea  of  the 
method  may  quite  possibly  have  been  derived  from 
Nathan's  parable  of  the  ewe  lamb.  The  design  was  to 
get  the  king  to  give  judgment  in  an  imaginary  case, 
and  thus  commit  him  to  a  similar  judgment  in  the  case 
of  Absalom.  But  there  was  a  world-wide  difference 
between  the  purpose  of  the  parable  of  Nathan  and  that 
of  the  wise  woman  of  Tekoah.  Nathan's  parable  was 
designed  to  rouse  the  king's  conscience  as  against  his 
feelings  ;  the  woman  of  Tekoah's,  as  prompted  by  Joab, 
to  rouse  his  feelings  as  against  his  conscience.  Joab 
found  a  fitting  tool  for  his  purpose  in  a  wise  woman  of 
Tekoah,  a  small  town  in  the  south  of  Judah.  She  was 
evidently  an  accommodating  and  unscrupulous  person  ; 


xiii.  38, 39 ;  xiv.]  ABSALOM  BANISHED,  209 

but  there  is  no  reason  to  compare  her  to  the  woman  | 

of  Endor,  whose  services  Saul   had  resorted  to.     She  \ 

seems    to    have    been    a  woman    of  dramatic    faculty,  \ 

clever  at  personating  another,    and  at   acting  a  part.  | 

Her    skill    in  this  way  becoming  known   to  Joab,    he  \ 

arranged  with  her  to  go  to   the  king  with  a  fictitious  \ 

story,   and  induce  him  now   to   bring   back  Absalom.  I 

Her  story  bore  that  she  was  a  widow  who  had  been  j 

left  with  two  sons,  one  of  whom  in  a  quarrel  killed  his  I 

brother  in  the  field.     All  the  family  were  risen  against  i 

her  to  constrain  her  to  give  up  the  murderer  to  death,  | 

but  if  she  did  so  her  remaining  coal  would  be  quenched,  \ 

and  neither  name  nor  remainder  left  to  her  husband  |. 

on   the   face  of  the  earth.      On   hearing  the  case,  the  I 

king   seems    to  have  been   impressed  in  the  woman's  | 

favour,   and    promised    to   give   an   order   accordingly.  \ 

Further  conversation  obtained  clearer  assurances  from  \ 
him  that  he  would  protect  her  from  the  avenger  of 
blood.  Then,  dropping  so  far  her  disguise,  she  ven- 
tured to  remonstrate  with  the  king,  inasmuch  as  he  had 
not  dealt  with  his  own  son  as  he  was  prepared  to  deal 
with  hers.  "  Wherefore  then  hast  thou  devised  such  a 
thing  against  the  people  of  God  ?  for  in  speaking  this 

word,  the  king  is  as  one  that  is  guilty,  in  that  the  king  | 

doth  not  fetch  home  again  his  banished  one.     For  we  | 

must  needs  die,  and  are  as  water  spilt  upon  the  ground  | 

which  cannot  be  gathered  up  again  ;  neither  doth  God  ^ 

take   away  life,   but   deviseth  means    that  he   that    is  \ 

banished    be  not  an  outcast  from   Him."     We  cannot  \ 

but  be  struck,  though  not  favourably,  with  the  pious  i 

tone  which  the  woman   here  assumed  to  David.     She  | 

represents  that  the  continued  banishment  of  Absalom  1 

is  against  the  people  of  God, — it  is  not  for  the  nation's  I 

interest    that    the    heir-apparent    should    be    for    ever  ; 

VOL.  II.                                                                  14  ^ 

I 

I 
I 


210  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

banished.  It  is  against  the  example  of  God,  who,  in 
administering  His  providence,  does  not  launch  His 
arrows  at  once  against  the  destroyer  of  life,  but  rather 
shows  him  mercy,  and  allows  him  to  return  to  his 
former  condition.  Clemency  is  a  divine-like  attribute. 
The  king  who  can  disentangle  difficulties,  and  give 
such  prominence  to  mercy,  is  like  an  angel  of  God.  It 
is  a  divine-like  work  he  undertakes  when  he  recalls 
his  banished.  She  can  pray,  when  he  is  about  to 
undertake  such  a  business,  ^'  The  Lord  thy  God  be  with 
thee"  (R.V.).  She  knew  that  any  difficulties  the  king 
might  have  in  recalling  his  son  would  arise  from  his 
fears  that  he  would  be  acting  against  God's  will.  The 
clever  woman  fills  his  eye  with  considerations  on  one 
side — the  mercy  and  forbearance  of  God,  the  pathos 
of  human  life,  the  duty  of  not  making  things  worse 
than  they  necessarily  are.  She  knew  he  would  be 
startled  when  she  named  Absalom.  She  knew  that 
though  he  had  given  judgment  on  the  general  principle 
as  involved  in  the  imaginary  case  she  had  put  be- 
fore him,  he  might  demur  to  the  application  of  that 
principle  to  the  case  of  Absalom.  Her  instructions 
from  Joab  were  to  get  the  king  to  sanction  Absalom/s 
return.  The  king  has  a  surmise  that  the  hand  of  Joab 
is  in  the  whole  transaction,  and  the  woman  acknow- 
ledges that  it  is  so.  After  the  interview  with  the 
woman,  David  sends  for  Joab,  and  gives  him  leave  to 
fetch  back  Absalom.  Joab  goes  to  Geshur  and  brings 
Absalom  to  Jerusalem. 

But  David's  treatment  of  Absalom  when  he  returns 
does  not  bear  out  the  character  for  unerring  wisdom 
which  the  woman  had  given  him.  The  king  refuses  to 
see  his  son,  and  for  two  years  Absalom  lives  in  his 
own  house,  without  enjoying  any  of  the  privileges  of 


xiii  3S,  39 ;  xiv.]         ABSALOM  BANISHED.  ^n 

the  king's  son.  By  this  means  David  took  away  all  the 
grace  of  the  transaction,  and  irritated  Absalom.  He 
was  afraid  to  exercise  his  royal  prerogative  in  pardon- 
ing him  out-and-out.  His  conscience  told  him  it  ought 
not  to  be  done.  To  restore  at  once  one  who  had 
sinned  so  flagrantly  to  all  his  dignity  and  power  was 
against  the  grain.  Though  therefore  he  had  given 
his  consent  to  Absalom  returning  to  Jerusalem,  for  all 
practical  purposes  he  might  as  well  have  been  at 
Geshur.  And  Absalom  was  not  the  man  to  bear  this 
quietly.  How  would  his  proud  spirit  hke  to  hear  of 
royal  festivals  at  which  all  were  present  but  he  ?  How 
would  he  Hke  to  hear  of  distinguished  visitors  to  the  \ 

king  from  the  surrounding  countries,  and  he  alone  ex-  | 

eluded  from  their  society  ?     His  spirit  would  be  chafed  | 

like  that  of  a  wild  beast  in  its  cage.     Now  it  was,  we  i 

cannot  doubt,  that  he  felt  a  new  estrangement  from  his  [ 

father,  and  conceived  the  project  of  seizing  upon  his  [ 

throne.     Now  too    it  probably  was    that  he    began  to  j 

gather  around  him  the  party  that  ultimately  gave  him 
his  short-lived  triumph.  There  would  be  sympathy  for 
him  in  some  quarters  as  an  ill-used  man ;  while  there  | 

would  rally  to  him  all  who  were  discontented  with 
David's  government,  whether  on  personal  or  on  public  | 

grounds.     The    enemies  of  his  godliness,  emboldened  I 

by    his    conduct    towards    Uriah,    finding    there    what  | 

Daniel's  enemies  in  a  future  age  tried  in  vain  to  find        •         | 
in  his  conduct,  would  begin  to  think  seriously  of  the  | 

possibihty   of    a    change.       Probably   Joab    began    to  | 

apprehend  the  coming  danger  when  he  refused  once 
and  again  to  speak  to  Absalom.     It  seemed  to  be  the  j 

impression  both  of  David  and  of  Joab  that  there  would 
be  danger  to  the  state  in  his  complete  restoration. 
Two  years  of  this  state  of  things  had  passed,  and  the 

\ 
\ 
\ 

\ 


212  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

patience  of  Absalom  was  exhausted.  He  sent  for  Joab 
to  negotiate  for  a  change  of  arrangements.  But  Joab 
would  not  see  him.  A  second  time  he  sent,  and  a 
second  time  Joab  declined.  Joab  was  really  in  a  great 
difficulty.  He  seems  to  have  seen  that  he  had  made  a 
mistake  in  bringing  Absalom  to  Jerusalem,  but  it  was 
a  mistake  out  of  which  he  could  not  extricate  himself. 
He  was  unwilling  to  go  back,  and  he  was  afraid  to  go 
forward.  He  had  not  courage  to  undo  the  mistake  he 
had  made  in  inviting  Absalom  to  return  by  banishing 
him  again.  If  he  should  meet  Absalom  he  knew  he 
would  be  unable  to  meet  the  arguments  by  which  he 
would  press  him  to  complete  what  he  had  begun  when 
he  invited  him  back.  Therefore  he  studiously  avoided 
him.  But  Absalom  was  not  to  be  outdone  in  this  w^ay. 
He  fell  on  a  rude  stratagem  for  bringing  Joab  to  his 
presence.  Their  fields  being  adjacent  to  each  other, 
Absalom  sent  his  servants  to  set  Joab's  barley  on 
fire.  The  irritation  of  such  an  unprovoked  injury 
overcame  Joab's  unwillingness  to  meet  Absalom  ;  he 
went  to  him  in  a  rage  and  demanded  why  this  had 
been  done.  The  matter  of  the  barley  would  be  easy 
to  arrange  ;  but  now  that  he  had  met  Joab  he  showed 
him  that  there  were  just  two  modes  of  treatment  open 
to  David, — either  really  to  pardon,  or  really  to  punish 
him.  This  probably  was  just  what  Joab  felt.  There 
was  no  good,  but  much  harm  in  the  half-and-half 
policy  which  the  king  was  pursuing.  If  Absalom  was 
pardoned,  let  him  be  on  friendly  terms  with  the  king. 
If  he  was  not  pardoned,  let  him  be  put  to  death  for  the 
crime  he  had  committed. 

Joab  was  unable  to  refute  Absalom's  reasoning. 
And  when  he  went  to  the  king  he  would  press  that 
view  on  him  likewise.     And  now,  after  two  years  of  a 


xiii.  ^S,  39 ;  xiv.]  ABSALOM  BANISHED.  213 

half-and-half  measure,  the  king  sees  no  alternative  but 
to  yield.  ''  When  he  had  called  for  Absalom,  he  came 
to  the  king,  and  bowed  himself  to  his  face  on  the 
ground  before  the  king  ;  and  the  king  kissed  Absalom."  I 

This  was  the   token    of  reconciliation   and  friendship.  \ 

But  it  would  not  be  with  a  clear  conscience  or  an  easy  il 

mind  that  David  saw  the  murderer  of  his  brother  in  full  [ 

possession  of  the  honours  of  the  king's  son.  i 

In  all  this  conduct  of  King  David  we  can  trace  only 
the  infatuation  of  one  left  to  the  guidance  of  his  own 
mind.  It  is  blunder  after  blunder.  Like  many  good  but 
mistaken  men,  he  erred  both  in  inflicting  punishments 
and  in  bestowing  favours.  Much  that  ought  to  be 
punished  such  persons  pass  over ;  what  they  do  select  | 

for  punishment  is  probably  something  trivial ;  and  when  f 

they  punish  it  is  in  a  way  so  injudicious  as  to  defeat  its  | 

ends.     And  some,  like  David,  keep  oscillating  between  I 

punishment  and  favour  so  as  at  once  to  destroy  the  effect 
of  the  one  and  the  grace  of  the  other.  His  example  may 
well  show  all  of  you  who  have  to  do  with  such  things 
the  need  of  great  carefulness  in  this  important  matter. 
Penalties,  to  be  effectual,  should  be  for  marked  offences, 
but  when  incurred  should  be  firmly  maintained.  Only 
when  the  purpose  of  the  punishment  is  attained  ought 
reconciliation  to  take  place,  and  w^hen  that  comes  it 
should  be  full-hearted  and  complete,  restoring  the 
offender  to  the  full  benefit  of  his  place  and  privilege, 
both  in  the  home  and  in  the  hearts  of  his  parents.  f 

So    David   lets   Absalom   loose,   as  it   were,   on  the  \ 

people  of  Jerusalem.     He  is  a  young  man  of  fine  appear-  I 

ance  and  fascinating  manners.  "  In  all  Israel  there  was 
none  to  be  so  much  praised  as  Absalom  for  his  beauty ; 
from  the  sole  of  the  foot  even  to  the  crown  of  the  head 
there  was  no  blemish  in  him.     And  when  he  polled  his 


214  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL,  \ 

\ 
head  (for  it  was  at  every  year's  end  that  he  polled  it ; 

because  his  hair  was  heavy  on  him,  therefore  he  polled 
it)  the  weight  of  the  hair  of  his  head  was  two  hundred     ■ 
shekels  after  the  king's  weight."     No   doubt  this    had 
something  to   do  with    David's    great    liking   for    him,      I 
He   could  not  but  look  on  him   with  pride,  and  think    ..' 
with   pleasure  how  much  he  was  admired   by    others.      I 
The  affection  which  owed  so  much  to  a  cause  of  this      ' 
sort   was   not   Hkely  to   be   of  the  highest  or   purest 
quality.     What  then  are  we  to  say  of  David's  fondness 
for  Absalom  ?     Was  it  wrong  for  a  father  to  be  attached 
to  his  child  ?     Was  it  wrong  for  him  to  love  even  a      | 
wicked  child  ?     No  one  can  for  a  moment  think  so  who      ; 
remembers  that  "  God  commended  His  love  towards  us,      i 
in  that  wh'le  we  were  yet  sinners  Christ   died  for  us." 
There  is  a  sense  in  which  loving  emotions  may  warrant- 
ably  be  more  powerfully  excited  in  the  breast  of  a  godly 
parent  toward  an  erring  child  than  toward  a  wise  and 
good  one.     The  very    thought   that  a  child  is  in  the 
thraldom  of  sin  creates  a  feeling  of  almost  infinite  pathos 
with  reference  to  his  condition.     The  loving  desire  for 
his  good  and  his  happiness  becomes  more  intense  from 
the  very  sense  of  the  disorder  and  misery  in  which 
he  lies.     The  sheep  that  has  strayed  from  the  fold  is      ' 
the  object  of  a  more  profound  emotion  than  the  ninety- 
and-nine    that    are    safe   within    it.      In   this    sense    a 
parent  cannot  love  his  child,  even  his  sinful  and  erring 
child,  too  well.     The  love  that  seeks  another's  highest 
good  can  never  be  too  intense,  for  it  is  the  very  counter- 
part and  image  of  God's  love  for  sinful  men. 

But,  as  far  as  we  can  gather,  David's  love  for 
Absalom  was  not  exclusively  of  this  kind.  It  was  a 
fondness  that  led  him  to  wink  at  his  faults  even  when 
they   became   flagrant,    and    that   desired    to    see   him 


xiii.  38,  39  ;  xiv.]  ABSALOM  BANISHED. 2i^5 

occupying  a   place    of  honour   and   responsibility   for 
which  he  certainly  was  far  from  quaUfied.     This  was 
more  than  the  love  of  benevolence.     The  love  of  bene- 
volence has,  in  the  Christian  bosom,  an  unUmited  sphere- 
It  may  be  given  to  the  most  unworthy.     But  the  love 
of  complacency,  of  delight  in  any  one,  of  desire  for  his 
company,  desire  for  close  relations  with  him,  confidence 
in    him,   as    one  to  whom  our  own   interests  and  the 
interests  of  others  may  be  safely  entrusted,  is  a  quite 
different  feeling.     This  kind  of  love  must  ever  be  regu- 
lated   by    the    degree    of    true    excellence,    of  genuine 
worth,  possessed  by  the  person  loved.     The  fault   in 
David's  love  to  Absalom  was  not  that  he  was  too  bene- 
volent,  not   that  he  wished  his  son  too  well.     It  was 
that  he  had  too  much  complacency  or  dehght  in  him, 
delight  resting   on  very  superficial    ground,    and    that 
he  was   too   willing  to    have  him   entrusted   with    the 
most  vital  interests  of  the  nation.     This  fondness  for 
Absalom  was  a  sort  of  infatuation,  to  which  David  never 
could  have  yielded  if  he  had  remembered  the  hundred 
and  first  Psalm,  and  if  he  had  thought  of  the  kind  of  men 
whom  alone  when  he  wrote  that  psalm  he  determined 
to  promote  to  influence  in  the  kingdom. 

And  on  this  we  found  a  general  lesson  of  no  small 
importance.  Young  persons,  let  us  say  emphatically 
young  women,  and  perhaps  Christian  young  women, 
are  apt  to  be  captivated  by  superficial  qualities,  qualities 
like  those  of  Absalom,  and  in  some  cases  are  not  only 
ready  but  eager  to  marry  those  who  possess  them.  In 
their  blindness  they  are  willing  to  commit  not  only 
their  own  interests  but  the  interests  of  their  children, 
if  they  should  have  any,  to  men  who  are  not  Christians, 
perhaps  barely  moral,  and  who  are  therefore  not  worthy 
oi  their  trust.     Here   it   is   that   affection   should    be 


2i6  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

watched  and  restrained.  Christians  should  never  allow 
their  affections  to  be  engaged  by  any  whom,  on  Christian 
grounds,  they  do  not  thoroughly  esteem.  All  honour 
to  those  who,  at  great  sacrifice,  have  honoured  this  rule  ! 
All  honour  to  Christian  parents  who  bring  up  their 
children  to  feel  that,  if  they  are  Christians  themselves, 
they  can  marry  only  in  the  Lord !  Alas  for  those 
who  deem  accidental  and  superficial  qualities  sufficient 
grounds  for  a  union  which  involves  the  deepest  interests 
of  souls  for  time  and  for  eternity !  In  David's  ill- 
founded  complacency  in  Absalom,  and  the  woeful 
disasters  which  flowed  from  it,  let  them  see  a  beacon 
to  warn  them  against  any  union  which  has  not  mutual 
esteem  for  its  foundation,  and  does  not  recognise  those 
higher  interests  in  reference  to  which  the  memorable 
words  were  spoken  by  our  Lord,  "What  is  a  man 
profited  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own 
soul?" 


CHAPTER   XIX.  ,       I 

i 

ABSALOM'S    REVOLT,  \ 

2  Samuel  xv.   i— 12.  i 

WHEN    Absalom    obtained    from    his    father    the 

position  he  had  so  eagerly  desired  at  Jerusalem,  \ 

he  did  not  allow  the  grass  to  grow  under  his  feet.    The  \ 

terms  on  which  he  was  now  with  the  king  evidently  f 

gave  him  a  command  of  money  to  a  very  ample  degree.  f 

By  this  means  he  was  able  to  set  up  an  equipage  such  \ 

as  had  not  previously  been  seen  at  Jerusalem.     '*  He  j 

prepared  him  a  chariot  and  horses,  and  fifty  men  to  run  ! 

before  him."     To  multiply  horses  to  himself  was  one  | 

of  the  things  forbidden   by  the  law  of  Moses   to   the  | 

king   that   should  be   chosen  (Deut.  xvii.   16),  mainly,  [ 

we  suppose,  because  it  was  a  prominent  feature  of  the  \ 

royal  state  of  the  kings  of  Egypt,  and  because  it  would  | 

have   indicated  a  tendency  to   place   the  glory  of  the  f 

kingdom    in    magnificent    surroundings   rather  than  in  \ 

the  protection  and  blessing  of  the  heavenly  King.     The  I 

style  of  David's  living  appears  to  have  been  quiet  and  | 

unpretending,  notwithstanding  the  vast  treasures  he  had  \ 

amassed  ;  for  the  love   of  pomp  or  display  was   none  [ 

of  his  failings.     Anything    in    the    shape  of  elaborate  [ 

arrangement    that   he  devised  seems  to    have  been  in  j 

connection  with  the  public  service  of  God — for  instance,  i 

his  choir  of  singers  and  players  (i  Chron.  xxiii.  5) ;  his  | 


2iS  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

own  personal  tastes  appear  to  have  been  simple  and  inex- 
pensive. And  this  style  undoubtedly  befitted  a  royalty 
which  rested  on  a  basis  so  peculiar  as  that  of  the 
nation  of  Israel,  when  the  king,  though  he  used  that 
title,  was  only  the  viceroy  of  the  true  King  of  the 
nation,  and  where  it  was  the  will  of  God  that  a  different 
spirit  should  prevail  from  that  prevalent  among  the 
surrounding  nations.  A  modest  establishment  was 
evidently  suited  to  one  who  recognised  his  true  position 
as  a  subordinate  lieutenant,  not  an  absolute  ruler. 

But  Absalom's  tastes  were  widely  different,  and  he 
w^as  not  the  man  to  be  restrained  from  gratifying  them 
by  any  considerations  of  that  sort.  The  moment  he 
had  the  power,  though  he  was  not  even  king,  he  set 
up  his  imposing  equipage,  and  became  the  observed  of 
all  observers  in  Jerusalem.  And  no  doubt  there  were 
many  of  the  people  who  sympathised  with  him,  and 
regarded  it  as  right  and  proper  that,  now  that  Israel 
was  so  renowned  and  prosperous  a  kingdom,  its  court 
should  shine  forth  in  corresponding  splendour.  The 
plain  equipage  of  David  would  seem  to  them  paltry 
and  unimposing,  in  no  way  fitted  to  gratify  the  pride 
or  elevate  the  dignity  of  the  kingdom.  Absalom's,  on 
the  other  hand,  would  seem  to  supply  all  that  David's 
wanted.  The  prancing  steeds,  with  their  gay  capari- 
sons, the  troop  of  outrunners  in  glittering  uniform,  the 
handsome  face  and  figure  of  the  prince,  would  create 
a  sensation  wherever  he  went ;  There,  men  would  say 
emphatically,  is  the  proper  state  and  bearing  of  a  king  ; 
had  we  such  a  monarch  as  that,  surrounding  nations 
would  everywhere  acknowledge  our  superiority,  and 
feel  that  we  were  entitled  to  the  first  place  among  the 
kingdoms  of  the  East. 

But  Absalom  was  far  too  shrewd  a  man  to  base  his 


XV.  I-I2.]  ABSALOM'S  REVOLT.  219 

popularity  merely  on  outward  show.  For  the  daring 
game  which  he  was  about  to  play  it  was  necessary  to 
have  much  firmer  support  than  that.  He  understood 
the  remarkable  power  of  personal  interest  and  sym- 
pathy in  winning  the  hearts  of  men,  and  drawing  them 
to  one's  side.  He  rose  up  early,  and  stood  beside  the 
way  of  the  gate,  where  in  Eastern  cities  judgment  was 
usually  administered,  but  where,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  Uttle  seems  to  have  been  done  by  the  king  or 
the  king's  servants  at  that  time.  To  all  who  came  to 
the  gate  he  addressed  himself  with  winsome  affability, 
and  to  those  who  had  "a  suit  that  should  come  to 
the  king  for  judgment"  (R.V.)  he  was  especially 
encouraging.  Well  did  he  know  that  when  a  man  has 
a  lawsuit  it  usually  engrosses  his  whole  attention, 
and  that  he  is  very  impatient  of  delays  and  hindrances 
in  the  way  of  his  case.  Very  adroitly  did  he  take 
advantage  of  this  feeling,— sympathising  with  the  liti- 
gant, agreeing  with  him  of  course  that  he  had  right 
on  his  side,  but  much  concerned  that  there  was  no  one 
appointed  of  the  king  to  attend  to  his  business,  and 
devoutly  and  fervently  wishing  that  he  were  made 
judge  in  the  land,  that  every  one  that  had  any  suit  or 
cause  might  come  to  him,  and  he  would  do  him  justice. 
And  with  regard  to  others,  when  they  came  to  do  him 
homage  he  seemed  unwilling  to  recognise  this  token  of 
superiority,  but,  as  if  they  were  just  brothers,  he  put 
forth  his  hand,  took  hold  of  them,  and  kissed  them.  If 
it  were  not  for  what  we  know  now  of  the  hollowness 
of  it,  this  would  be  a  pretty  picture — an  ear  so  ready 
to  listen  to  the  tale  of  wrong,  a  heart  so  full  of  sympathy, 
an  active  temperament,  that  in  the  early  hours  of  the 
morning  sent  him  forth  to  meet  the  people  and 
exchange    kindly   greetings    with   them;    a    form    and 


THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


figure  that  graced  the  finest  procession  ;  a  manner  that 
could  be  aUke  dignified  when  dignity  was  becoming, 
and  humility  itself  when  it  was  right  to  be  humble. 
But  alas  for  the  hollow-heartedness  of  the  picture  !  It 
is  like  the  fabled  apples  of  Sodom,  outside  all  fair  and 
attractive,  but  dust  within. 

But  hollow  though  it  was,  the  policy  succeeded — he 
became  exceedingly  popular ;  he  secured  the  affections 
of  the  people.  It  is  a  remarkable  expression  that  is 
used  to  denote  this  result — ''  He  stole  the  hearts  of  the 
men  of  Israel."  It  was  not  an  honest  transaction.  It 
was  swindling  in  high  life.  He  was  appropriating 
valuable  property  on  false  pretences.  To  constitute 
a  man  a  thief  or  a  swindler  it  is  not  necessary  that 
he  forge  a  rich  man's  name,  or  that  he  put  his  hand 
into  the  pocket  of  his  neighbour.  To  gain  a  heart  by 
hypocritical  means,  to.  secure  the  confidence  of  another 
by  lying  promises,  is  equally  low  and  wicked ;  nay,  in 
God's  sight  is  a  greater  crime.  It  may  be  that  man's 
law  has  difficulty  in  reaching  it,  and  in  many  cases 
cannot  reach  it  at  all.  But  it  cannot  be  supposed  that 
those  who  are  guilty  of  it  will  in  the  end  escape  God's 
righteous  judgment.  And  if  the  punishments  of  the 
future  life  are  fitted  to  indicate  the  due  character 
of  the  sins  for  which  they  are  sent,  we  can  think  of 
nothing  more  appropriate  than  that  those  who  have 
stolen  hearts  in  this  way,  high  in  this  world's  rank 
though  they  have  often  been,  should  be  made  to  rank 
with  the  thieves  and  thimbleriggers  and  other  knaves 
who  are  the  habitues  of  our  prisons,  and  are  scorned 
universally  as  the  meanest  of  mankind.  With  all  his 
fine  face  and  figure  and  manner,  his  chariot  and 
horses,  his  outrunners  and  other  attendants,  Absalom 
after  all  was  but  a  black-hearted  thief. 


XV,  I- 12.]  ABSALOM'S  REVOLT.  221 

All  this  crooked  and  cunning  policy  of  his  Absalom 
carried  on  with  unwearied  vigour  till  his  plot  was 
ripe.  There  is  reason  to  apprehend  an  error  of  some 
kind  in  the  text  when  it  is  said  (ver.  7)  that  it  was  "  at 
the  end  of  forty  years  "  that  Absalom  struck  the  final 
blow.  The  reading  of  some  manuscripts  is  more  likely 
to    be  correct, — "at  the  end  of  four  years,"    that  is,  | 

four  years  after  he  was  allowed  to  assume  the  position  i 

of  prince.     During  that  space  of  time  much  might  be  [ 

quietly    done    by    one    who    had    such    an    advantage  i 

of  manner,  and  was  so  resolutely  devoted  to  his  work.  j 

For  he   seems  to   have  laboured  at  his   task  without  | 

interruption  all  that  time.     The  dissembling  which  he  | 

had   to  practise,  to  impress  the  people  with  the  idea  | 

of  his    kindly   interest  in    them,    must    have    required  | 

a  very  considerable  strain.     But  he  was  sustained  in  | 

it  by  the  belief  that  in  the  end  he  would  succeed,  and  \ 

success    was    worth    an   infinity    of    labour.     What    a 
power  of  persistence  is  often  shown  by  the  children 
of  this  world,  and  how  much  wiser  are  they  in  their         \ 
generation  than  the  children  of  light  as  to  the  means         | 
that  will   achieve  their  ends  !      With  what  wonderful         \ 
application    and    perseverance    do    many    men    labour         \ 
to  build  up  a  business,  to  accumulate  a  fortune,  to  gain         | 
a  distinction  !     I   have    heard   of  a  young  man   who,         | 
being  informed  that  an  advertisement  had  appeared  in         | 
a  newspaper  to  the  effect  that  if  his  family  would  apply        | 
to   some   one  they  would  hear  of  something   to  their        | 
advantage,  set  himself  to  discover  that  advertisement,        f 
went  over  the  advertisements  for  several  years,  column        [ 
by  column,  first    of  one    paper,  then    of  another  and        i 
another,  till  he  became  so  absorbed  in  the  task  that  he 
lost  first  his  reason   and   then  his  life.      Thank   God^        j 
there  are  instances  not  a  few  of  very  noble  application       j 


222  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  ; 

and  perseverance  in  the  spiritual  field  ;  but  is  it  not 
true  that  the  mass  even  of  good  men  are  sadly  remiss 
in  the  efforts  they  make  for  spiritual  ends  ?  Does  not  1 
the  energy  of  the  racer  v^ho  ran  for  the  corruptible 
crown  often  put  to  shame  the  languor  of  those  who 
seek  for  an  incorruptible  ?     And  does  not  the  manifold  ■ 

secular  activity  of  which  we  see  so  much  in  the  world  j 

around  us  sound  a  loud  summons  in  the   ears  of  all         J 
who   are  at   ease   in    Zion — "Now   it   is    high    time  I 

to  awake  out  of  sleep  "  ?  \ 

The  copestone  which  Absalom  put  on  his  plot  when  ^ 

all  was   ripe  for   execution  was    of  a    piece  with   the  | 

whole  undertaking.     It  was  an  act  of  religious  hypocrisy         1 
amounting  to  profanity.     It  shows  how  well  he  must  \ 

have  succeeded  in  deceiving  his  father  when  he  could  \^ 

venture  on  such  a  finishing  stroke.     Hypocrite  though  \ 

he  was  himself,  he  well  knew  the  depth  and  sincerity  ^J 

of  his  father's    religion.     He  knew    too   that   nothing  | 

could  gratify  him  more  than  to  find  in  his  son  the 
evidence  of  a  similar  state  of  heart.     It  is  difticult  to  ; 

comprehend  the  villainy  that  could  frame  such  a  state-  j 

ment  as  this  : — "  I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  and  pay  my  | 

vow,  which  I  have  vowed  unto  the  Lord,  in  Hebron.  ,i 

For  thy  servant  vowed  a  vow,  while  I  abode  at  Geshur  \ 

in  Syria,  saying,  If  the  Lord  shall  indeed   bring  me  ; 

again   to  Jerusalem,  then  I  will    serve"   (marg.   R.V.,  \ 

worship)  "  the  Lord."     We  have  already  remarked  that  ' 

it  is  not  very  clear  from  this  whether  up  to  this  time 
Absalom  had  been  a  worshipper  of  the  God  of  Israel. 
The  purport  of  his  pretended  vow  (that  is,  what  he 
wished  his  father    to   believe)  must  have  been   either  ■ 

that,  renouncing  the  idolatry  of  Geshur,  he  would  now  s; 

become  a  worshipper  of  Israel's  God,  or  (what  seems  ; 

more  likely)  that  in  token  of  his  purpose  for  the  future  ^ 


I -12.]  ABSALOM'S  REVOLT. 


he    would    present    a   special    offering    to    the   God   of  j 

Israel.     This  vow  he  now  wished  to  redeem  by  making  i 

his   offerings  to    the    Lord,    and   for    this    purpose   he  | 

desired   to  go   to   Hebron.     But  why  go  to  Hebron?  j 

Might  he  not  have  redeemed  it  at  Jerusalem  ?     It  was  | 

the  custom,  however,  when  a  vow  was  taken,  to  specify  \ 

the    place   where    it    was    to   be   fulfilled,    and  in    this  \ 

instance   Hebron  was  alleged    to    be    the    place.     But 
what   are   we   to   think  of  the  effrontery  and  wicked-  | 

ness  of  this  pretence  ?     To  drag  sacred  things  into  a  i 

scheme  of  villainy,   to  pretend  to  have  a  desire  to  do  j 

honour  to  God  simply  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  [ 

deception   and    gaining    a   worldly  end,   is    a  frightful  l 

prostitution  of  all  that  ought  to  be  held  most  sacred.  ; 

It  seems  to  indicate  one  who  had  no  belief  in  God  or  | 

in  anything  holy,   to  whom  truth  and  falsehood,  right  | 

and   wrong,   honour    and    shame,  were    all    essentially  f 

alike,  although,  when  it  suited  him,  he  might  pretend  I 

to  have  a  profound  regard  to  the  honour  of  God  and  \ 

a  cordial  purpose  to  render  that  honour.     We  are  re-  | 

minded  of  Charles  II.  taking  the  Covenant  to  please  j 

the   Scots,  and  get   their  help  towards  obtaining  the  \ 

crown.     But  indeed  the  same  great  sin  is  involved  in  { 

every   act    of   religious    hypocrisy,    in    every  instance  | 

in  which  pretended  reverence  is  paid  to  God  in  order  | 

to  secure  a  selfish  end.  | 

The   place   was    cunningly   selected.     It   enjoyed   a  | 

sanctity  which  had   been  gathering  round  it  for  cen-  \ 

turies ;  whereas  Jerusalem,  as  the  capital  of  the  nation,  | 

was  but  of  yesterday.     Hebron  was  the  place  where  | 

David  himself  had  begun  his  reign,  and  while  it  was  j 

far  enough  from  Jerusalem  to  allow  Absalom  to  work  | 

unobserved  by  David,  it  was  near  enough  to  allow  him  i 

to  carry  out  the  schemes  which  had  been  set  on  foot  i 


I 

224  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  % 

there.     So  little  suspicion  had   the  old  king  of  what        \ 
was  brewing  that,  when   Absalom   asked   leave  to  go 
to  Hebron,  he  dismissed  him  with  a  blessing — "  Go  in 
peace." 

What  Joab  was  thinking  of  all  this  we  have  no 
means  of  knowing.  That  a  man  who  looked  after 
his  own  interests  so  well  as  Joab  did,  should  have 
stuck  to  David  when  his  fortunes  appeared  to  be 
desperate,  is  somewhat  surprising.  But  the  truth 
seems  to  be  that  Absalom  never  felt  very  cordial 
towards  Joab  after  his  refusal  to  meet  him  on  his 
return  from  Geshur.  It  does  not  appear  that  Joab 
was  much  impressed  by  regard  to  God's  will  in  the 
matter  of  the  succession ;  his  being  engaged  afterwards 
in  the  insurrection  in  favour  of  Adonijah  when  Solomon 
was  divinely  marked  out  for  the  succession  shows  that 
he  was  not.  His  adherence  to  David  on  this  occasion 
was  probably  the  result  of  necessity  rather  than  choice. 
But  what  are  we  to  say  of  his  want  of  vigilance  in 
allowing  Absalom's  conspiracy  to  advance  as  it  did 
either  without  suspecting  its  existence,  or  at  least 
without  making  provision  for  defending  the  king's 
cause  ?  Either  he  was  very  blind  or  he  was  very 
careless.  As  for  the  king  himself,  we  have  seen  what 
cause  he  had,  after  his  great  trespass,  for  courting 
solitude  and  avoiding  contact  with  the  people.  That 
he  should  be  ignorant  of  all  that  was  going  on  need 
not  surprise  us.  And  moreover,  from  allusions  in 
some  of  the  Psalms  (xxxviii.,  xxxix.,  xli.)  to  a  loathsome 
and  all  but  fatal  illness  of  David's',  and  to  treachery 
practised  on  him  when  ill,  some  have  supposed  that 
this  was  the  time  chosen  by  Absalom  for  consummating 
his  plot.  When  Absalom  said  to  the  men  applying 
for  justice,  whom  he  met  at  the  gate  of  the  city,  "  There 


XV.  I-I2.]  ABSALOM'S  REVOLT.  2.1^ 

is  no  man  deputed  of  the  king  to  hear  thee,"  his  words 
implied  that  there  was  something  hindering  the  king 
from  being  there  in  person,  and  for  some  reason  he 
had  not  appointed  a  deputy.  A  protracted  illness, 
unfitting  David  for  his  personal  duties  and  for  super- 
intending the  machinery  of  government,  might  have 
furnished  Absalom  with  the  pretext  for  his  lamentation  i 

over  this  want.     It  gives   us   a   harder  impression   of  | 

his  villainy  and  hardness  of  heart  if  he  chose  a  time  j 

when  his  father  was  enfeebled  by  disease  to  inflict  a  | 

crushing    blow   on    his    government   and    a   crowning  j 

humiliation  on  himself.  \ 


Three  other  steps   were  taken  by  Absalom    before  ; 

bringing  the  revolt  to   a  crisis.     First,  he  sent  spies  ; 

or   secret   emissaries    to  all    the  tribes,    calling    them,  \ 

on    hearing  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,   to  acknowledge  \ 

him    as    king   at    Hebron.     Evidently    he    had  all  the  [ 

talent   for  administration  that   was  so   conspicuous  in  \ 

his  nation  and  in  his  house, — if  only  it  had  been  put  | 

to  a  better  use.     Secondly,  he  took  with  him  to  Hebron  ! 

a  band  of  two  hundred  men,  of  whom  it  is  said  ''  they  | 

went  in  their  simplicity,  and  they  knew  not  anything '  \ 

— so  admirably  was  the  secret  kept.     Thirdly,  Absalom  e 

sent  for  Ahithophel   the  Gilonite,   David's   counsellor,  | 

from  his  city,  having  reason  to  believe  that  Ahithophel  | 

was  on  his  side,  and  knowing  that  his  counsel  would  | 

be  valuable    to   him  in  the  present  emergency.     And  f 

every     arrangement     seemed     to    succeed    admirably.  .1 

The  tide  ran  strongly  in  his  favour — ^'  the  conspiracy  [ 
was  strong,  for  the  people  increased  continually  with 
Absalom."  Everything  seemed  to  fall  out  precisely  as 
he  wished  ;  it  looked  as  if  the  revolt  would  not  only 
succeed,  but  that  it  would  succeed  without  serious 
opposition.     Absalom  must  have  been  full  of  expecta- 

VOL.  II.  15 


226  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

tion  that  in  a  few  days  or  weeks  he  would  be  reigning 
unopposed  at  Jerusalem. 

This  extraordinary  success  is  difficult  to  understand. 
For  what  could  have  made  David  so  unpopular  ?  In 
his  earliest  years  he  had  been  singularly  popular; 
his  victories  brought  him  unbounded  eclat;  and  when 
IsJibosheth  died  it  was  the  remembrance  of  these  early 
services  that  disposed  the  people  to  call  him  to  the 
throne.  Since  that  time  he  had  increased  his  services 
in  an  eminent  degree.  He  had  freed  his  country  from 
all  the  surrounding  tribes  that  were  constantly  attack- 
ing it ;  he  had  conquered  those  distant  but  powerful 
enemies  the  Syrians ;  and  he  had  brought  to  the 
country  a  great  accumulation  of  wealth.  Add  to  this 
that  he  was  fond  of  music  and  a  poet,  and  had  written 
many  of  the  very  finest  of  their  sacred  songs.  Why 
should  not  such  a  king  be  popular  ?  The  answer  to 
this  question  will  embrace  a  variety  of  reasons.  In  the 
first  place,  a  generation  was  growing  up  who  had  not 
been  alive  at  the  time  of  his  early  services,  and  on 
whom  therefore  they  would  make  a  very  slender 
impression.  For  service  done  to  the  public  is  very 
soon  forgotten  unless  it  be  constantly  repeated  in 
other  forms,  unless,  in  fact,  there  be  a  perpetual  round 
of  it.  So  it  is  found  by  many  a  minister  of  the  gospel. 
Though  he  may  have  built  up  his  congregation  from  the 
very  beginning,  ministered  among  them  with  unceasing 
assiduity,  and  taken  the  lead  in  many  important  and 
permanent  undertakings,  yet  in  a  few  years  after  he 
goes  away  all  is  forgotten,  and  his  very  name  comes 
to  be  unknown  to  many.  In  the  second  place,  David 
was  turning  old,  and  old  men  are  prone  to  adhere 
to  their  old  ways  ;  his  government  had  become  old- 
fashioned,  and  he- showed  no  longer  the  life  and  vigour 


XV.  I-I2.]  ABSALOM'S  REVOLT.  227 

of  former  days.  A  new,  fresh,  lively  administration 
was  eagerly  desired  by  the  younger  spirits  of  the  nation. 
Further,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  David's  fervent 
piety  was  disliked  by  many,  and  his  puritan  methods  i 

of  governing  the  kingdom.     The  spirit  of  the  world  is  i 

sure  to  be  found  in  every  community,  and  it  is  alwa^^s  \ 

offended  by  the  government  of  holy  men.     Finally,  his  I 

fall  in  the  matter  of  Uriah  had  greatly  impaired  the 
respect  and  affection  even  of  the  better  part  of  the 
community.     If  to  all  this  there  was  added  a  period  j 

of  feeble  health,   during  which   many   departments   of  j 

government   were    neglected,    we    shall    have,    be^-ond  ( 

doubt,  the  principal  grounds  of  the  king's  unpopularity.  ^J 

The    ardent     lovers    of    godliness     were   no    doubt    a  .; 

minority,    and    thus    even    David,    who    had    done    so  \ 

much  for  Israel,  was  ready  to  be  sacrificed  in  the  time  \ 

of  old  age.  \ 

But  had  he  not  something  better  to  fall  back  on  ?  ; 

Was  he  not  promised  the  protection  and  the  aid  of  the  j 

Most  High  ?     Might  he  not  cast  himself  on  Him  who  • 

had  been  his  refuge  and  his  strength  in  every  time  of  1 

need,  and  of  whom  he  had  sung  so  serenely  that  He  |. 

is  near  to  them  that  call  on  Him   in  sincerity  and  in  | 

truth  ?     Undoubtedly  he  might,   and   undoubtedly  he         I-;. 
did.     And  the  final  result  of  Absalom's  rebellion,  the        t 
wonderful  way  in  which  its  back  was  broken  and  David  | 

rescued  and  restored,  showed  that  though  cast  down  | 

he  was  not  forsaken.    But  now",  we  must  remember,  the  | 

second  element  of  the  chastisement  of  which  Nathan  [' 

testified,  had  come  upon  him.  "  Behold,  I  will  raise 
up  evil  against  thee  out  of  thine  own  house."  That 
chastisement  was  now  falling,  and  while  it  lasted 
the  joy  and  comfort  of  God's  gracious  presence  must 
have  been   interrupted.      But   all   the  same  God    was 


228  THE  SECOND  BOGK  OF  SAMUEL, 

Still  with  him,  even  though  He  was  carrying  him  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  Like  the  Apostle 
Peter,  he  was  brought  to  the  very  verge  of  destruction  ; 
but  at  the  critical  moment  an  unseen  hand  was  stretched 
out  to  save  him,  and  in  after-years  he  was  able  to  sing, 
"  He  brought  me  up  also  out  of  a  fearful  pit,  and  out 
of  the  miry  clay  ;  and  He  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock  and 
established  my  goings ;  and  He  hath  put  a  new  song 
in  my  mouth,  even  praise  unto  our  God ;  many  shall 
see  it  and  shall  fear,  and  shall  trust  in  the  Lord." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DAVID'S  FLIGHT  FROM  JERUSALEM, 
2  Samuel  xv.  13. 

THE   trumpet   which   was    to   be   the   signal  that  \ 

Absalom  reigned  in  Hebron  had  been  sounded,  [ 

the  flow  of  people  in  response  to  it  had  begun,  when  J 

"a  messenger  came  to   David   saying,  The  hearts  of  | 

the  men  of  Israel  are  after  Absalom."     The  narrative  \ 

is   so   concise  that  we  can  hardly  tell  whether  or  not  ^ 

this    was    the    first    announcement    to    David   of   the  ; 

real  intentions  of  Absalom.     But  it  is  very  certain  that  | 

the  king  was  utterly  unprepared  to  meet  the  sudden  I 

revolt.     The  first  news  of  it  all  but  overwhelmed  him.  i 

And  little  wonder.     There  came  on  him  three  calamities  [' 

in  one.     First,  there  was  the  calamity  that  the  great  !' 

bulk   of  the    people    had   revolted   against   him,    and  | 

were  now  hastening  to  drive  him  from  the  throne,  and  | 

very  probably  to  put  him  to  death.     Second,  there  was  | 

the  appalling  discovery  of  the  villainy,  hypocrisy,  and  | 

heartless  cruelty  of  his  favourite  and  popular  son, — the  f 

most  crushing  thing  that  can  be  thought  of  to  a  tender  -j 

heart.     And   third,  there  was   the  discovery  that  the  ( 

hearts  of  the  people  were  with  Absalom  ;  David  had  | 
lost  what  he  most  prized  and  desired  to  possess ;  the 
intense  affection  he  had  for  his  people  now  met  with 
no    response ;   their   love   and  confidence   were   given 

I 
I 
I 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


to  a  usurper.  Fancy  an  old  man,  perhaps  in  infirm 
health,  suddenly  confronted  with  this  threefold  calamity  ; 
who  can  wonder  for  the  time  that  he  is  paralysed, 
and  bends  before  the  storm  ? 

Flight    from    Jerusalem    seemed    the    only    feasible 
course.     Both  pohcy  and  humanity  seemed  to  dictate 
it.     He  considered  himself  unable  to  defend    the  city 
with  any  hope  of  success  against  an  attack  by  such  a 
force  as  Absalom  could  muster,  and  he  was  unwilling 
to  expose    the    people  to  be  smitten  with    the  sword. 
Whether  he  was  really  as  helpless  as  he  thought  we 
can  hardly  say.     We  should  be  disposed  to  think  that 
his  first  duty  was  to  stay  where  he  was,  and  defend  his 
capital.     He  was  there  as  God's  viceroy,  and  would  not 
God  be  with  him,  defending  the  place  where  He  had  set 
His  name,  and  the  tabernacle  in  which  He  was  pleased 
to  dwell  ?     It  is  not  possible  for  us,  ignorant  as  we  are 
of  the. circumstances,  to  decide  whether  the  flight  from 
Jerusalem  was  the  enlightened  result  of  an  overwhelm- 
ing necessity,  or  the  fruit  of  sudden  panic,  of  a  heart 
so  paralysed  that  it  could  not  gird  itself  for  action.     His 
servants  had  no  other  advice  to  offer.     Any  course  that 
recommended  itself  to  him  they  were  ready  to  take.     If 
this  did  not   help  to  throw  hght  on  his  difficulties,  it 
must  at  least  have  soothed  his  heart.     His  friends  were 
not  all  forsaking  him.     Amid  the  faithless  a  few  were 
found  faithful.    Friends  in  such  need  were  friends  indeed. 
And  the  sight  of  their  honest  though  perplexed  counte- 
nances, and  the  sound  of  their  friendly  though  trembling 
voices,    would    be    most   soothing  to  his  feelings,   and 
serve   to   rally   the  energy  that  had   almost  left    him. 
When    the   world    forsakes    us,    the  few    friends    that 
remain  are  of  priceless  value. 

On  leaving   Jerusalem   David    at  once  turned  east- 


XV.  13.]      DAVID'S  FLIGHT  FROM  JERUSALEM.  231 

ward,  into  the  wilderness  region  between  Jerusalem  and 
Jericho,  with  the  view,  if  possible,  of  crossing  the  Jordan, 
so  as  to  have  that  river,  with  its  deep  valley,  between 
him  and  the  rebels.  The  first  halt,  or  rather  the  rendez- 
vous for  his  followers,  though  called  in  the  A.V.  "  a  place 
that  was  far  off,"  is  more  suitably  rendered  in  the  R.V, 
Bethmerhak,  and  the  margin  "  the  far  house."  Pro- 
bably it  was  the  last  house  on  this  side  the  brook 
Kidron.  Here,  outside  the  walls  of  the  city,  some 
hasty  arrangements  were  made  before  the  flight  was 
begun  in  earnest. 

First,  we  read  that  he  was  accompanied  by  all  his 
household,  with  the  exception  of  ten  concubines  who 
were  left  to  keep  the  house.  Fain  would  we  have 
avoided  contact  at  such  a  moment  with  that  feature  of 
his  house  from  which  so  much  mischief  had  come ;  but 
to  the  end  of  the  day  David  never  deviated  in  that 
respect  from  the  barbarous  policy  of  all  Eastern  kings. 
The  mention  of  his  household  shows  how  embarrassed 
he  must  have  been  with  so  many  helpless  appendages, 
and  how  slow  his  flight.    And  his  household  were  not  the  I 

only  women  and  children  of  the  company ;  the  "  little  \ 

ones "  of  the  Gittites  are  mentioned   in  ver.    22 ;  we  [ 

may  conceive  how  the  unconcealed  terror  and  excitement  i; 

of  these  helpless  beings  must  have  distressed  him,  as  | 

their  feeble  powers  of  walking  must  have  held  back  the  | 

fighting  part  of  his  attendants.     When  one  thinks  of  | 

this,  one  sees  more  clearly  the  excellence  of  the  advice  | 

afterwards  given  by  Ahithophel  to  pursue  him  without  ■ 

loss  of  time  with  twelve  thousand  men,  to  destroy  his  ( 

person  at  once ;  in  that  case,  Absalom  must  have  over-  j 

taken  him  long    before    he    reached    the   Jordan,    and        ,  } 
found  him  quite  unable  to  withstand  his  ardent  troops.  | 

Next,  we  find   mention   of  the  forces  that  remained  | 

\ 
\ 
\ 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


faithful  to  the  king  in  the  crisis  of  his  misfortunes. 
The  Pelethites,  the  Cherethites,  and  the  Gittites  were 
the  chief  of  these.  The  Pelethites  and  the  Cherethites 
are  supposed  to  have  been  the  representatives  of  the 
band  of  followers  that  David  commanded  when  hiding 
from  Saul  in  the  wilderness  ;  the  Gittites  appear  to  have 
been  a  body  of  refugees  from  Gath,  driven  away  by  the 
tyranny  of  the  Philistines,  who  had  thrown  themselves 
on  the  protection  of  David  and  had  been  well  treated 
by  him.  The  interview  between  David  and  Ittai  was 
most  creditable  to  the  feelings  of  the  fugitive  king. 
Ittai  was  a  stranger  who  had  but  lately  come  to  Jeru- 
salem, and  as  he  was  not  attached  to  David  personally, 
it  would  be  safer  for  him  to  return  to  the  city  and 
offer  to  the  reigning  king  the  services  which  David  could 
no  longer  reward.  But  the  generous  proposal  of  David 
was  rejected  with  equal  nobility  on  the  part  of  Ittai. 
He  had  probably  been  received  with  kindness  by  David 
when  he  first  came  to  Jerusalem,  the  king  remembering 
well  when  he  himself  was  in  the  like  predicament,  and 
thinking,  like  the  African  princess  to  iEneas,  ^^  Hand 
ignara  malij  miseris  succurrere  disco  " — ''  Having  had 
experience  of  adversity  myself,  I  know  how  to  succour 
the  miserable."  Ittai's  heart  was  won  to  David  then  ; 
and  he  had  made  up  his  mind,  like  Ruth  the  Moabitess 
with  reference  to  Naomi,  that  wherever  David  was,  in  life 
or  in  death,  there  also  he  should  be.  How  affecting  must 
it  have  been  to  David  to  receive  such  an  assurance  from 
a  stranger !  His  own  son,  whom  he  had  loaded  with 
undeserved  kindness,  was  conspiring  against  him, 
while  this  stranger,  who  owed  him  nothing  in  com- 
parison, was  risking  everything  in  his  cause.  ''  There 
is  a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother." 

Next  in    David's  train   presented  themselves  Zadok 


XV.  13-]       DAVWS  FLIGHT  FROM  JERUSALEM,  233 

and  Abiathar,  the  priests^  carrying  the  ark  of  God. 
The  presence  of  this  sacred  symbol  would  have  invested 
the  cause  of  David  with  a  manifestly  sacred  character 
in  the  eyes  of  all  good  men ;  its  absence  from  Absalom 
would  have  equally  suggested  the  absence  of  Israel's 
God.  But  David  probably  remembered  how  ill  it  had 
fared  with  Israel  in  the  days  of  Eli  and  his  sons,  when 
the  ark  was  carried  into  batde.  Moreover,  when  the 
ark  had  been  placed  on  Mount  Zion,  God  had  said, 
"  This  is  My  rest ;  here  will  I  dwell ; "  and  even  in  this 
extraordinary  emergency,  David  would  not  disturb  that 
arrangement.  He  said  to  Zadok,  ''Carry  back  the  ark  of 
God  into  the  city  :  if  I  shall  find  favour  in  the  eyes  of 
the  Lord,  He  shall  bring  me  again,  and  show  me  both 
it  and  His  habitation  :  but  if  He  thus  say,  I  have  no 
delight  in  thee,  behold,  here  am  I ;  let  Him  do  to  me  what 
seemeth  good  unto  Him."  These  words  show  how  much 
God  was  in  David's  mind  in  connection  with  the  events 
of  that  humiliating  day.  They  show,  too,  that  he  did 
not  regard  his  case  as  desperate.  But  everything 
turned  on  the  will  of  God.  It  might  be  that,  in  His 
great  mercy.  He  would  bring  him  back  to  Jerusalem. 
His  former  promises  led  him  to  think  of  this  as  a 
possible,  perhaps  probable,  termination  of  the  insurrec- 
tion. But  it  might  also  be  that  the  Lord  had  no  more 
delight  in  him.  The  chastening  with  which  He  was 
now  visiting  him  for  his  sin  might  involve  the  success 
of  Absalom.  In  that  case,  all  that  David  would  say 
was  that  he  was  at  God's  disposal,  and  would  offer  no 
resistance  to  His  holy  will.  If  he  was  to  be  restored, 
he  would  be  restored  without  the  aid  of  the  ark  ;  if  he 
was  to  be  destroyed,  the  ark  could  not  save  him. 
Zadok  and  his  Levites  must  carry  it  back  into  the  city. 
The  distance  was  a  very  short  one,  and  they  would  be 


234  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

able  to  have  everything  placed  in  order  before  Absalom 
could  be  there. 

Another  thought  occurred  to  David,  who  was  now 
evidently  recovering  his  calmness  and  power  of  making 
arrangements.  Zadok  was  a  seer,  and  able  to  use  that 
method  of  obtaining  light  from  God  which  in  great 
emergencies  God  was  pleased  to  give  when  the  ruler  of 
the  nation  required  it.  But  the  marginal  reading  of  the 
R.V.,  "Seest  thou?"  instead  of  "Thou  art  a  seer," 
makes  it  doubtful  whether  David  referred  to  this  mystic 
privilege,  which  Zadok  does  not  appear  to  have  used  ; 
the  meaning  may  be  simply,  that  as  he  was  an  observ- 
ant man,  he  could  be  of  use  to  David  in  the  city,  by 
noticing  how  things  were  going  and  sending  him  word. 
In  this  way  he  could  be  of  more  use  to  him  in  Jeru- 
salem than  in  the  field.  Considering  how  he  was 
embarrassed  with  the  women  and  children,  it  was 
better  for  David  not  to  be  encumbered  with  another 
defenceless  body  like  the  Levites.  The  sons  of  the 
priests,  Ahimaaz  and  Jonathan,  would  be  of  great 
service  in  bringing  him  information.  Even  if  he  suc- 
ceeded in  reaching  the  plains  (or  fords,  marg.  R.V.)  of 
the  wilderness,  they  could  easily  overtake  him,  and  tell 
him  what  plan  of  operations  it  would  be  wisest  for  him 
to  follow. 

These  hasty  arrangements  being  made,  and  the  com- 
pany placed  in  some  sort  of  order,  the  march  towards 
the  wilderness  now  began.  The  first  thing  was  to 
cross  the  brook  Kidron.  From  its  bed,  the  road  led  up 
the  slope  of  Mount  Olivet.  To  the  spectators  the  sight 
was  one  of  overwhelming  sadness.  ''AH  the  country 
wept  with  a  loud  voice,  and  all  the  people  passed  over ; 
the  king  also  himself  passed  over  the  brook  Kidron, 
and  all  the  people  passed  over  toward  the  way  of  the 


■       ■  '    ■  3T.3.3.I      DAVID'S- FLIGHT  ^f ROM  JE^USAL2M,      :       335 

wilcici:nes3,"     After'  all,-  \y\^r^-  was  a  large  numl>er  who 

.'    "aympatliiscd  w.ith  the  king,  and  to. whom  it  was  jtiosl 

-'  -aii^cung  to  3ee  one  who-^aa'now  "old  and- grey- headed  '* 

-       -driven    from    his    throne    and "  from    his    home    by    an 

^-\''     ^  unp-nncipied    son,    aided    and    abetted    h^  a    graceless 

■   generation  who  had  no  coi^  id  era  tion^_^  the  countless 

•  .   •"-  ^,     Ijcnciits  which  David  had  coHfered.  on  the  nation.      It 

,/.'..  .•     is  when"  wb    find  .''all-  the  coihj^try  '*'  e::  pressing  their 

:  ,,       ./'aympathy  that  we   cannot  but   doubt  whether,  it  was  ' 

■realJx  necessary  for  Davki  ta"  fly..  Perhaps  "the 
\...  A;  rJOMrrtjy*  here  may  be  used  in  contrast  jo  the  city. 
,." ::  :  CounG7  people  are  less  accessibie.to  s^^rct  (rorispiraciea, 
v^;\",.:  .ami  besides  are.  j«3  djspcscd  to  c?)ange  their  aifcgiance. 
;--*'^':  •■  v:-' ■  r^  -  svcnt.  showed  ■  thai  \n  th^iaore  remote  ctjuiUry  '■ 
::^ii^.-,:.c^4i3irij^--.David  had..stiiKa.  nuraeroaa-.foilawiog..  -Tiiae  -•; 

' -■       Jo  gather  tbese  fronds  togrth^r  was  his  great  nctrd.     If 
i;|.:^-s^j^,he  1^  benn  iailen  on  that  nighr,.  weary,  and^desolatc-  ^ 
'  ,1/4   :a^*^  aimost.  friend lcs3^  as  is«3>propcs4^d  by  Ahithophel, 
./•>fi"J.  r;.  Jhci^.'-OLij  bfi:  I30  Hitioiial'  dcubt  what . ih^,  issue  irbuki 
;r:':.. '.'■.; have  bc^a,  '_  '■'■  .-  '  ■'^•-    \:'-  ::,   '-/  ■ 

■../.;  ■';•;:    Ais^  the-' king;  him^cli*  fa"^  "s^j  to"  distress,  like . the. .-: " 

,.  "loo^^  though  for  diScrent  reaaojis.     *VDavid  went  up 
o,:-"-:..-  '.by,,  the  ascent  6f  Mount  0^i>^t,'^n<i;  wept' .as  he.  went' 
rM-fl^P»  and:  had  his  head- covered; 'and.  he  went  Eerelbdt;/^' 
-.ji^Qan^  aH  ^he  people   that  waa  witnMism  covered-/ every  ' 
:^:^#;--asaJ^;hia  \i&^i^^  and  Ihej  went"  up,  weeping -aa- they- 'wenf. 
^:'-t^~^,.^^    Ti^  covered  \v^3id-  aiwi  bare Tect  were-tokena  0/ 
=   .^.  .humiliaUb^  They  isrer^a  hamble  confesaion  en  xhc 

•■-:•,'::-:•  ■king^s.  part' that.. the  afHiction  Which  hssd^  befalka  him " ' 
waa  isfcU    deserved   by  him.     The  whole  attitude  and    .' 
\beaHng  of  D^ivid  is  that  of  OiSc  V  atricken,  smitten,  9:^ 
;■  aiHi^  Lofty  looks  and  a  prtHid  bearing  hsid  T^r^v 

T:-.h---v'..l)een  among  \n3.  weijknes.'ea;  bi^t-  on  this  occasion,  he 
-.•-.;.'.- .^ la-  3p-.aseek  and  lowly  that  the  |»orea4  gcraoa  in  hia 


.    ; .336      ■  ^     .  .  THE  SSCOND .  B0OK  OF  S.n/USZ,     ;' 

kingdom  could  not  have  as55umed  ii  more  humble  bear- 
ing.    It  is  the  feclinj^  ti:ht.h,id  so  wrung  his  heart  in 
%h^  fffty-first  Psaira  irome  back  on  him  again.     It  is  tlie 
feeling,  Ph,  what  a  sinner  I  have  been!  how  forgetful 
of  God  I  have  often  proved,  and  how  unworthily  1  have 
acted  toward  man  I     Noi  wonder  that  God  rebukes  me 
and  visits  me  with  these  troublcaf.  And  not  me  only, 
byt  my  people  too,    Thesc.a£«  my  children,  for  whom  I 
should  have  provided  a/peaceful  home^niriven  Into' the 
ahcJt^Hcss   wilderness   with  me  \     These  kind  people 
who  are  compassionating  me  have  been  brought  by  mc 
Into    this    trouble,  w'hicH  j«radvcnture  will  coat  them 
their  Il^'es,     "  Have  mercy  up<m  me,  O  God,  according 
_ito  T^y  Jqvin^kindn       ;  according  unto  th«  multitude 
e£  Thy  tender  mercies,  blot  out  my  transgre^^fons  I  ** 

It  was  at  this  time  that  3onie  one  brought  word  to 
David   that   Ahithophel  the  Gilonite  waa  among   the 
cisnspirators.      He   seems   to   have  been  greatly   dia- 
tresaed  at  the  news.     For  "t!e  counsel  of  Ahithophel,  , 
which  he   eounael.'cd  in  those  days,  was  aa  If  a  man  • 
V  l^d  inqjired  of  the   orack   of  Ck)d"   (xviv  25).     Ain- 
iugenioUa   writer  haa   found   a  riason    for   this    step. 
Bj  comparing  3  Sam.  si.  J  with  2  Sam,  axiiL  34,  in  the 
banner  q$  which   Bathsheba  is  caHcd  the  laughter  of 
^  Eliam^  and  in   the  latter   Eliam  is   called   the  son  of 
AhitlK)phcl^  it  woij Id  appear— if  tt  be  the  sJime  Eliara  ~ 
In    both — ^^that    AJuthophel    was    the'  grandfather  of 
BathahcLa..     fmm   thia  at  haa  been   issfcrred    that  hia 
fcraaking  ©f  David  at   this  time  was.  due  to  hts  dis- 
"  pleasure  at  David's  treatment  pt  Bathsh^ba  and  Uriah; 
>   Tbe   idea    is    ini^nious^   but    after    ail   it    ia    hardly 
tniatwofthj.     For^  if  Ahithophel    was  -a  man  of  such 
aiaguiar  shrewdness,  he  would  not  be"*^Wsc}y  to  let  his 
persc^^al  feelings  determine  ^a  public  conduct;    There 


23.J      i-rfTF- 


Il^S  FlICaT  FROM  JSHUSAUSM.  /337 

can-  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that,!  j'ucfemg  calmly  frvjm 
the   kind- of  considerations    by  which  a  worldly  mind 
like  hia  would  be  influenced,  he  came  to  the  deliberate 
conclusion  that  Absalom;  wis  going  to  win.     And  when 
;  David  heard  of  his  defection,  it  must  have  given  him 
kdoubk  pang;  first,  because  he  would  lose  so  valuable 
a  counsellor,  and  Absalom  wourd  gain  what  he  would 
lose ;  and  second,  becauae-  Ahithophefa  choice  showed 
J     the  side  Ihat^  to  his  shrewd  judgment,  was  going  to 
.    triumph.     David   could   but  fall   bacl(   on  that  'higher 
CcHinsellor  on  whose  aid  and  countenance  he  was  still 
able  to  ncly,  and  oflfcr  a  short  but  expresaive  prayer,^  ".  O 
Lordi  I  pray  Thee,  tura  the  counad  o^  Ahuhophcl  Inlp 
foolishness.**  ,^    r 

-r     "it  WM^'but  a  few  mhnites  after  thia"tlimtan6Cher 
"    distinguished  counsellor,  Hushai  the  Archite,  came  to 
V  him,  with  hia  clothes  ncnt  and  dust  o«  his  head,  signify- 
ing hia  sense  of  ih^  public  cah^mity,  and  hta-  adherence 
to  Davidr     Him  too,  as  well  aa  Ittai  and  the  pHeata, 
David  withcd  to  ^T\i6,  back*     Attd  the  reMon  assigned 
L     showed    that   his  mind  was  now  calm  aod  clear,  and 
.  able  to  ponder  the  aituatidh  in  all  hs  l)earings^     Indeed, 
;  he  coiK:pcti  quite  a  little  scheme  wiih  Hushai     First, 
he  is  to  fo  to  Absakmi  and  pretend  to  be  on  his  side. 
But  hh  aiain  busin^s^  wiU  be  to  oppoae  the  counsel  of 
Ahithophel,  try  to  secure  a  little  time  to  David,  and 
thua  give  him  a  thance  of  escape.     Moreover,  he  is  to 
r  coKjpcTate   with  the  priests  Zadok  and  Abiathar,  and 
through  Sheir  sons  send  word  to  Dayki  of  everything 
.he  h^fcfs.     Hushai  obeys  DavKi,  and  as  he  returns  to    • 
the  c^ty  from  the  east,  Absalom  arrives  from  the  south, 
before  David  is  more  than  three  or  four  miles  away. 
But   for  the  Mount    of .  Olives    intervening,    Absalom 
mif^t  lu^ve  seen  the  company  that  followed  his  father 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


creeping  slowly  along  the  wilderness,  a  company  that 
could  hardly  be  called  an  army,  and  that,  humanly 
speaking,  might  have  been  scattered  like  a  puff  of 
smoke. 

Thus  Absalom  gets  possession  of  Jerusalem  without  a 
blow.  He  goes  to  his  father's  house,  and  takes  possession 
of  all  that  he  finds  there.  He  cannot  but  feel  the  joy  o 
gratified  ambition,  the  joy  of  the  successful  accomplish- 
ment of  his  elaborate  and  long-prosecuted  scheme.  Times 
are  changed,  he  would  naturally  reflect,  since  I  had  to 
ask  my  father's  leave  for  everything  I  did,-  since  I  could 
not  even  go  to  Hebron  without  begging  him  to  allow  me. 
Times  are  changed  since  I  reared  that  monument  in 
the  vale  for  want  of  anything  else  to  keep  my  name 
alive.  Now  that  I  am  king,  my  name  will  live  without 
a  monument.  The  success  of  the  revolution  was  so 
remarkable,  that  if  Absalom  had  believed  in  God,  he 
might  have  imagined,  judging  from  the  way  in  which 
everything  had,  fallen  out  in  his  favour,  that  Providence 
was  on  his  side.  But,  surely,  there  must  have  been  a 
hard  constraint  and  pressure  upon  his  feelings  some- 
where. Conscience  could  not  be  utterly  inactive. 
Fresh  efforts  to  silence  it  must  have  been  needed  from 
time  to  time.  i\mid  all  the  excitement  of  success, 
a  vague  horror  must  have  stolen  in  on  his  soul.  A 
vision  of  outraged  justice  would  haunt  him.  He  might 
scare  away  the  hideous  spectre  for  a  time,  but  he  could 
not  lay  it  in  the  grave.  "  There  is  no  peace,  saith  my 
God,  to  the  wicked." 

But  if  Absalom  might  well  be  haunted  by  a  spectre 
because  he  had  driven  his  father  from  his  house,  and 
God's,  anointed  from  his  throiie,  there  was  a  still  more 
fearful  reckoning  standing  against  him,  in  that  he  had 
enticed    such    multitudes     from    their    allegiance,    and 


XV.  13.]      DAVID'S  FLIGHT  FROM  JERUSALEM.  239 

drawn  them  into  the  guilt  of  rebellion.  There  was  not 
one  of  the  many  thousands  that  were  now  shouting  "God 
save  the  king  !  "  who  had  not  been  induced  through  him 
to  do  a  great  sin,  and  bring  himself  under  the  special 
displeasure  of  God.  A  rough  nature  like  Absalom's 
would  make  light  of  this  result  of  his  movement,  as 
rough  natures  have  done  since  the  world  began.  But  a 
very  different  judgment  was  passed  by  the  great  Teacher 
on  the  effects  of  leading  others  into  sin.  "  Whosoever 
shall  break  one  of  these  least  commandments  and  teach  i 

men  so,  he  shall  be  called  least  in  the  kingdom  of 
God."  "Whoso  shall  cause  one  of  these  little  ones 
which  believe  in  Me  to  stumble,  it  were  better  for  him 
that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck  and  he 
were  cast  in  the  depth  of  the  sea."  Yet  how  common 
a  thing  this  has  been  in  all  ages  of  the  world,  and  how 
common  it  is  still !     To  put  pressure  on  others  to  do  \ 

wrong ;  to  urge  them  to  trifle  with  their  consciences,  or  \ 

knowingly   to  violate   them  ;  to  press  them  to  give  a  \ 

vote  against  their  convictions  ; — all  such    methods  of         ; 
disturbing  conscience  and  drawing  men   into   crooked  | 

ways,  what  sin    they  involve  !    And   when  a  man  of         \ 
great   influence   employs  it  with  hundreds  and  thou-  ? 

sands  of  people  in  such  ways,   twisting  consciences,  \ 

disturbing    self-respect,    bringing    down    Divine    dis-         \ 
pleasure,  how  forcibly  we  are  reminded  of  the  proverb,  | 

"  One  sinner  destroyeth  much  good  "  !  | 

Most  earnestly  should  every  one  who  has  influence  | 
over  others  dread  being  guilty  of  debauching  con-  \ 
science,   and  discouraging  obedience   to    its    call.     On  I 

the  other  hand,  how  blessed  is  it  to  use  one's  influence         j 
in  the  opposite  direction.     Think  of  the  blessedness  of         I 
a  life  spent  in  enlightening  others  as  to  truth  and  duty, 
and  encouraging  loyalty  to  their  high  but  often  diffi-         i 


240  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

cult  claims.  What  a  contrast  to  the  other !  What  a 
noble  aim  to  try  to  make  men's  eye  single  and  their 
duty  easy ;  to  try  to  raise  them  above  selfish  and 
carnal  motives,  and  inspire  them  with  a  sense  of  the 
nobility  of  walking  uprightly,  and  working  righteous- 
ness, and  speaking  the  truth  in  their  hearts  !  What  a 
privilege  to  be  able  to  induce'  our  fellows  to  walk  in 
some  degree  even  as  He  walked  "who  did  no  sin, 
neither  was  guile  found  in  His  mouth ; "  and  who,  in 
ways  so  high  above  our  ways,  was  ever  influencing  the 
children  of  men  '^  to  do  justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to 
walk  humbly  with  their  God  "  ! 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

FROM  JERUSALEM  TO   MAHANAIM, 
2  Samuel  xvi.  i  — 14 ;  xvii.  15  —22  and  24—26. 

AS  David  proceeds  on  his  painful  journey,  thert 
flows  from  his  heart  a  gentle  current  of  humble 
contrite,  gracious  feeling.  If  recent  events  have 
thrown  any  doubt  on  the  reality  of  his  goodness,  this 
fragrant  narrative  will  restore  the  balance.  Many  a 
man  would  have  been  beside  himself  with  rage  at  the 
treatment  he  had  undergone.  Many  another  man  would 
have  been  restless  with  terror,  looking  behind  him 
every  other  moment  to  see  if  the  usurper's  army  was 
not  hastening  in  pursuit  of  him.  It  is  touching  to  see 
David,  mild,  self-possessed,  thoroughly  humble,  and 
most  considerate  of  others.  Adversity  is  the  element 
in  which  he  shines ;  it  is  in  prosperity  he  falls  ;  in 
adversity  he  rises  beautifully.  After  the  humbling 
events  in  his  life  to  which  our  attention  has  been  lately 
called,  it  is  a  relief  to  witness  the  noble  bearing  of  the 
venerable  saint  amid  the  pelting  of  this  most  pitiless 
storm. 

It  was  when  David  was  a  Httle  past  the  summit  of 
Mount  Olivet,  and  soon  after  he  had  sent  back  Hushai, 
that  Ziba  came  after  him, — that  servant  of  Saul  that 
had  told  him  of  Mephibosheth  the  son  of  Jonathan,  and 
whom  he  had  appointed  to  take  charge  of  the  property 

VOL.  II.  16 


242  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

that  had  belonged  to  Saul,  now  made  over  to  Mephibo- 
sheth.  The  young  man  himself  was  to  be  as  one  of 
the  king's  sons,  and  was  to  eat  at  the  royal  table. 
Ziba's  account  of  him  was,  that  when  he  heard  of  the 
insurrection  he  remained  at  Jerusalem,  in  the  expecta- 
tion that  on  that  very  day  the  kingdom  of  his  father 
would  be  restored  to  him.  It  can  hardly  be  imagined 
that  Mephibosheth  was  so  silly  as  to  think  or  say  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  Either  Ziba  must  have  been  slander- 
ing him  now,  or  Mephibosheth  must  have  slandered 
Ziba  when  David  returned  (see  2  Sam.  xix.  24-30). 
With  that  remarkable  impartiality  which  distinguishes 
the  history,  the  facts  and  the  statements  of  the  parties 
are  recorded  as  they  occurred,  but  we  are  left  to  form 
cur  own  judgment  regarding  them.  All  things  consi- 
dered, it  is  likely  that  Ziba  was  the  slanderer  and 
Mephibosheth  the  injured  man.  Mephibosheth  was 
too  feeble  a  man,  both  in  mind  and  in  body,  to  be 
forming  bold  schemes  by  which  he  might  benefit  from 
the  insurrection.  We  prefer  to  believe  that  the  son 
of  Jonathan  had  so  much  of  his  father's  nobility  as  to 
cling  to  David  in  the  hour  of  his  trial,  and  be  desirous 
of  throwing  in  his  lot  with  him.  If,  however,  Ziba 
was  a  slanderer  and  a  liar,  the  strange  thing  about  him 
is  -that  he  should  have  taken  this  opportunity  to  give 
effect  to  his  villainy.  It  is  strange  that,  with  a  soul  full 
of  treachery,  he  should  have  taken  the  trouble  to  come 
after  David  at  all,  and  still  more  that  he  should  have 
made  a  contribution  to  his  scanty  stores.  We  should 
have  expected  such  a  man  to  remain  with  Absalom, 
and  look  to  him  for  the  reward  of  unrighteousness. 
He  brought  with  him  for  David's  use  a  couple  of  asses 
saddled,  and  two  hundred  loaves  of  bread,  and  an 
hundred  clusters  of  raisins,  and  an  hundred  of  summer 


xv{.\-i^;xyn.']  FROM  JERUSALEM  TO   MAHANAIM.        243 

fruits,  and  a  bottle  of  wine.  We  get  a  vivid  idea  of  the 
extreme  haste  with  which  David  and  his  company  must 
have  left  Jerusalem,  and  their  destitution  of  the  very 
necessaries  of  life  as  they  fled,  from  this  catalogue  of 
Ziba's  contributions.  Not  even  were  there  beasts  of 
burden  ^'for  the  king's  household  "—even  Bathsheba 
and  Solomon  may  have  been  going  on  foot.  David 
was  evidently  impressed  by  the  gift,  and  his  opinion  of 
Mephibosheth  was  not  so  high  as  to  prevent  him  from 
believing  that  he  was  capable  of  the  course  ascribed  to 
him.  Yet  we  cannot  but  think  there  was  undue  haste 
in  his  at  once  transferring  to  Ziba  the  whole  of  Mephi- 
bosheth's  property.  We  can  only  say,  in  vnidication 
of  David,  that  his  confidence  even  in  those  who  had 
been  most  indebted  to  him  had  received  so  rude  a 
shock  in  the  conduct  of  Absalom,  that  he  was  ready  to 
say  in  his  haste,  ''  All  men  are  liars  ;  "  he  was  ready 
to  suspect  every  man  of  deserting  him,  except  those 
that  gave  palpable  evidence  that  they  were  on  his  side. 
In  this  number  it  seemed  at  the  moment  that  Ziba 
was,  while  Mephibosheth  was  not ;  and  trusting  to  his 
first  impression,  and  acting  with  the  promptitude  neces- 
sary in  war,  he  made  the  transfer.  It  is  true  that 
afterwards  he  discovered  his  mistake  ;  and  some  may 
think  that  when  he  did  he  did  not  make  a  sufficient 
rectification.  He  directed  Ziba  and  Mephibosheth  to- 
divide  the  property  between  them  ;  but  in  explanation 
it  has  been  suggested  that  this  was  equivalent  to  the 
old  arrangement,  by  which  Ziba  was  to  cultivate  the 
land,  and  Mephibosheth  to  receive  the  fruits;  and  if 
half  the  produce  went  to  the  proprietor,  and  the  other 
half  to  the  cultivator,  the  arrangement  may  have  been 
a  just  and  satisfactory  one  after  all. 

But  if  Ziba  sinned  in  the  way  of  smooth  treachery, 


244  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 


Shimei,   the   next  person   with   whom   David  came  in  \ 

contact,  sinned  not  less  in  the  opposite  fashion,  by  his  I 

outrageous  insolence  and  invective.     It  is  said  of  this  } 

man  that  he  was  of  the  family  of  the  house  of  Saul,  and  ' 

that  fact  goes  far  to  account  for  his  atrocious  behaviour.  i 

We  get  a  glimpse  of  that  inveterate  jealousy  of  David  ' 

which  during  the  long  period  of  his  reign  slept  in  the  ■ 

bosom  of  the  family  of  Saul,  and  which  seemed  now,  like  i 

a  volcano,  to  burst  out  all  the  more  fiercely  for  its  long  i 

suppression.     When  the  throne  passed  from  the  family  ! 

of  Saul,  Shimei  would  of  course  experience  a  great  social  : 

fall.     To  be  no  longer  connected  with  the  royal  family 
would  be  a  great  mortification  to  one  who  was  vain  of  ' 

such  distinctions.     Outwardly,  he  was  obliged  to  bear 
his  fall  with  resignation,  but  inwardly  the  spirit  of  dis-  j 

appointment  and  jealousy  raged  in  his  breast.     When 
the  opportunity  of  revenge   against   David  came,   the  I 

rage  and  venom  of  his   spirit   poured   out   in  a  filthy  i 

torrent.     There  is  no  mistaking  the  mean  nature  of  the  j 

man  to  take  such  an  opportunity  of  venting  his  malignity  j, 

on  David.     To  trample  on  the  fallen,  to  press  a  man  j 

when   his    back    is  at  the  wall,   to   pierce  with   fresh  \ 

wounds  the  body  of  a  stricken  warrior,  is   the   mean  \ 

resource  of  ungenerous  cowardice.     But  it  is  too  much  ■ 

the  way  of  the  world.     '^  If  there  be  any  quarrels,  any 
exceptions,"  says  Bishop  Hall,  "  against  a  man,  let  him  ! 

look  to  have  them  laid  in  his  dish  when  he  fares  the  [ 

hardest.     This    practice   have  wicked  men   learned   of  J 

their  master,   to  take   the  utmost   advantage   of  their  i 

afflictions."  I 

If  Shimei  had  contented  himself  with  denouncing  the  1 

policy  of  David,  the  forbearance  of  his  victim  would  i 

not  have  been  so  remarkable.     But  Shimei  was  guilty  | 

of  every  form  of  offensive  and  provoking  assault.      He  | 


xvi.  i-i4;xvii.]  FROM  [ERUSALEM  TO  MAHANAIM.        245 

threw  stones,  he  called  abusive  names,  he  hurled  wicked 
charges    against    David  ;    he    declared    that    God    was 
fighting   against  him,  and  fighting  justly  against  such 
a  man  of  blood,  such  a  man  of  Belial.     And,  as  if  this 
were  not  enough,  he  stung  him  in  the  most  sensitive 
part  of  his  nature,  reproaching  him  with  the  fact  that  it 
was  his  son  that  now  reigned  instead  of  him,  because 
the   Lord   had   delivered    the   kingdom   into    his   hand. 
But  even  all  this  accumulation  of  coarse  and  shameful 
abuse    failed    to    rufQe    David's    equanimity.     Abishai, 
Joab's  brother,  was  enraged  at  the   presumption  of  a 
fellow  who  had  no  right  to  take  such  an  attitude,  and 
whose  insolence  deserved  a  prompt  and  sharp  castiga-        f 
tion.     But  David  never  thirsted  for  the  blood  of  foes. 
Even  while  the  rocks  were  echoing  Shimei's  charges,        \ 
David  gave  very  remarkable  evidence  of  the  spirit  of  a       | 
chastened   child   of  God.     He   showed  the   same  for-       | 
bearance  that  he  had  shown  twice  on  former  occasions       [ 
in   sparing  the  life  of  Saul.     ^'Why,"  asked  Abishai,       I 
"should  this  dead  dog  curse  my  lord  the  king?     Let       | 
me  go,  I  pray  thee,  and  take  off  his  head."     ''So  let       | 
him  curse,"  was  David's  answer,  "because  the  Lord  hath      \ 
said  unto  him,  Curse  David."     It  was  but  partially  true       J 
that  the  Lord  had  told  him  to  do  so.     The  Lord  had      ,> 
only  permitted  him  to  do  it ;  He  had  only  placed  David      | 
in  circumstances  which  allowed  Shimei  to  pour  out  his      I 
insolence.     This  use  of  the  expression,  ''The Lord  hath      % 
said  unto  him,"  may  be  a  useful  guide  to  its  true  mean-      | 
ing  in  some  passages  of  Scripture  where  it  has  seemed      | 
at  first  as  if  God  gave  very  strange  directions.     The      \ 
pretext  that    Providence   had   afforded   to  Shimei  was 
this,  "  Behold,  my  son,  which  came  out  of  my  bowels, 
seeketh    my    life;    how   much    more    then    may    this 
Benjamite  do  it  ?     Let  him  alone,  and  let  him  curse, 


246  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  j 

1 

for  the  Lord  hath  bidden  him.     It  may  be  that  the  Lord  ! 

will  requite  me  good  for  his  cursing  this  day."     It  is  ; 

touching  to  remark  how  keenly  David  felt  this  dreadful  \ 

trial  as  coming  from  his  own  son.  ! 

"  So  the  struck  eagle  stretched  upon  the  plain,  ! 

No  more  through  rolHng  clouds  to  soar  again,  i 

Viewed  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart  i 

That  winged  the  shaft  that  quivered  in  his  heart  ;  | 

Keen  were  his  pangs,  but  keener  far  to  feel  \ 

He  nursed  the  pinion  which  impelled  the  steel ;  } 

While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warmed  his  nest  i 
Drank  the  last  lifedrop  of  his  bleeding  breast." 

But  even  the  fact  that  it  was  his  own  son  that  was 
the  author  of  all  his  present  calamities  would  not  have 
made  David  so  meek  under  the  outrage  of  Shimei  if  he 
had  not  felt  that  God  was  using  such  men  as  instru- 
ments to  chastise  him  for  his  sins.  For  though  God  had 
never  said  to  Shimei,  ^'  Curse  David/'  He  had  let  him 
become  an  instrument  of  chastisement  and  humiliation 
against  him.  It  was  the  fact  of  his  being  such  an  instru- 
ment in  God's  hands  that  made  the  King  so  unwilling 
to  interfere  with  him.  David's  reverence  for  God's 
appointment  was  like  that  which  afterwards  led  our 
Lord  to  say,  "The  cup  which  My  Father  hath  given 
Me,  shall  I  not  drink  of  it  ?  "  UnHke  though  David  and 
Jesus  were  in  the  cause  of  their  sufferings,  yet  there  is 
a  remarkable  resemblance  in  their  bearing  under  them. 
The  meek  resignation  of  David  as  he  went  out  from  the 
holy  city  had  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  meek  resigna- 
tion of  Jesus  as  He  was  being  led  from  the  same  city 
to  Calvary.  The  gentle  consideration  of  David  for  the 
welfare  of  his  people  as  he  toiled  up  Mount  Olivet  was 
parallel  to  the  same  feeling  of  Jesus  expressed  to  the 
daughters  of  Jerusalem  as  He  toiled  up  to  Calvary. 
The  forbearance  of  David  to  Shimei  was  like  the  spirit 


xvL  I-I4,  xvii.]   FROM  JERUSALEM  TO  MAHANAIM.         247 

of  the  prayer — ''  Father,  forgive  them  :  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do."  The  overawing  sense  that  God 
had    ordained    their    sufferings    was    similar    in    both.  I 

David  owed  his  sufferings  solely  to  himself;  Jesus  | 
owed  His  solely  to  the  relation  in  which  He  had  placed  \ 
Himself  to  sinners  as  the  Sin-bearer.  It  is  beautiful  to  \ 
see  David  so  meek  and  lowly  under  the  sense  of  his  f 
sins — breathing  the  spirit  of  the  prophet's  words,  "I  • 
will  stand  upon  my  watch,  and  set  me  upon  the  tower,  j 
and  will  watch  to  see  what  he  will  say  unto  me,  and  i 
what  I  shall  answer  when  I  am  reproved."  1 

There  was    another    thought    in    David's  mind    that         - 
helped  him  to  bear  his  sufferings  with  meek  submission.         \... 
It.  is  this  that  is  expressed  in  the  words,  "It  may  be         I 
that  the  Lord  will  requite  me  good  for  his  cursing  this 
day."     He  felt  that,  as  coming  from  the  hand  of  God, 
all  that  he  had  suffered  was  just  and  righteous.     He         J 
had  done  wickedly,  and  he  deserved  to  be  humbled  and         \ 
chastened    by  God,  and   by  such    instruments  as  God         | 
might  appoint.     But  the  particular  words  and  acts  of        j 
these    instruments    might    be    highly    unjust    to    him :         i 
though    Shimei  was   God's  instrument  for  humiliating        \ 
him,  yet  the  curses  of  Shimei  were  alike  unrighteous         ^ 
and  outrageous  ;  the  charge  that  he  had  shed  the  blood         I 
of  Saul's  house,  and  seized  Saul's  kingdom  by  violence,         | 
was  outrageously  false ;  but  it  was  better  to  bear  the         I 
wrong,  and  leave  the  rectifying  of  it  in  God's  hands ;        \ 
for  God  detests  unfair  dealing,  and  when  His  servants        | 
receive  it  He  will  look  to  it  and  redress  it  in  His  own        f 
time    and   way.     And    this    is    a    very    important    and 
valuable  consideration  for  those  servants  of  God  who 
are  exposed  to  abusive    language  and  treatment  from 
scurrilous    opponents,   or,  what  is  too  common  in  our 
day,  scurrilous  newspapers.     If  injustice  is  done  them, 


248  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

let  them,  like  David,  trust  to  God  to  redress  the  wrong ; 
God  is  a  God  of  justice,  and  God  will  not  see  them 
treated  unjustly.  And  hence  that  remarkable  statement 
which  forms  a  sort  of  appendix  to  the  seven  beatitudes 
— "  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  revile  you  and  per- 
secute you,  and  speak  all  manner  of  evil  against  you 
falsely  for  My  name's  sake.  Rejoice  and  be  exceeding 
glad,  for  great  is  your  reward  in  heaven ;  for  so  perse- 
cuted they  the  prophets  that  were  before  you." 

Ere  we  return  to  Jerusalem  to  witness  the  progress 
of  events  in  Absalom's  camp  and  cabinet,  let  us 
accompany  David  to  his  resting-place  beyond  the 
Jordan.  Through  the  counsel  of  Hushai,  afterwards  to 
be  considered,  he  had  reached  the  plains  of  Jordan  an 
safety ;  had  accomplished  the  passage  of  the  river,  and 
traversed  the  path  on  the  other  side  as  far  as  Mahanaim, 
somewhere  to  the  south  of  the  Lake  of  Gennesareth, 
the  place  where  Ishbosheth  had  held  his  court.  It  was 
a  singular  mercy  that  he  was  able  to  accomplish  this 
journey,  which  in  the  condition  of  his  followers  must 
have  occupied  several  days,  without  opposition  in  front 
or  molestation  in  his  rear.  Tokens  of  the  Lord's 
loving  care  were  not  wanting  to  encourage  him  on  the 
way.  It  must  have  been  a  great  relief  to  him  to  learn 
that  Ahithophel's  proposal  of  an  immediate  pursuit  had 
been  arrested  through  the  counsel  of  Hushai.  It  was  a 
further  token  for  good,  that  the  lives  of  the  priests'  sons, 
Jonathan  and  Ahimaaz,  which  had  been  endangered 
as  they  bore  tidings  for  him,  had  been  mercifully 
preserved.  After  learning  the  result  of  Hushai's 
counsel,  they  proceeded,  incautiously  perhaps,  to  reach 
David,  and  were  observed  and  pursued.  But  a  friendly 
woman  concealed  them  in  a  well,  as  Rahab  the  harlot 
had  hid  the  spies  in  the  roof  of  her  house ;  and  though 


xvi.  i-i4i  xvii.]   FROM  JERUSALEM  TO  M AH  AN  AIM.       249 

they  ran  a  great  risk,  they  contrived  to  reach  David's 
camp  in  peace. 

And   when    David    reached    Mahanaim,    where   he 
halted  to  await  the  course  of  events,  Shobi,  the  son 
of   Nahash,    king    of  Ammon,    and    Machir,    the    son 
of  Ammiel   of   Lo-debar,   and    Barzillai   the    Gileadite 
of   RogeKm,  brought    beds,   and    basons,  and    earthen 
vessels,  and  wheat,  and  barley,  and  flour,  and  parched 
corn,    and    beans,    and    lentiles,    and    parched    pulse, 
and    honey,    and    butter,    and    sheep,    and    cheese    of 
kine,  for    David    and  for    the    people    that   were  with 
him  to  eat ;  for  they  said,  The  people  is  hungry,  and 
weary,    and    thirsty    in    the    wilderness."      Some    of 
those  who  thus   befriended    him  were  only  requiting 
former  favours.     Shobi  may  be  supposed  to  have  been 
ashamed  of  his  father's  insulting  conduct  when  David 
sent  messengers  to  comfort  him  on  his  father's  death. 
Machir,  the  son  of  Ammiel  of  Lo-debar,  was  the  friend 
who  had  cared  for  Mephibosheth,  and  was  doubtless 
thankful  for  David's  generosity  to  him.      Of  Barzillai 
we  know  nothing   more    than   is    told   us   here.     But 
David    could    not    have   reckoned    on    the   friendship 
of  these  men,  nor  on  its  taking  so  useful  and  practical 
a  turn.     The  Lord's  hand  was  manifest  in  the  turning 
of  the  hearts    of  these   people    to    him.      How   hard 
bestead  he  and  his  followers  were  is  but  too  apparent 
from  the  fact  that  these  supplies  were  most  welcome  in 
their  condition.    And  David  must  have  derived  no  small 
measure    of  encouragement    even   fromx    these    trifling 
matters  ;  they  showed  that  God  had  not  forgotten  him, 
and   they  raised    the   expectation   that   further   tokens 
of  His  love  and  care  would  not  be  withheld. 

The  district  where  David  now  was,   ^^  the  other  side 
of  Jordan,"  lay  far  apart  from  Jerusalem  and  the  more 


250  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

frequented  places  in  the  country,  and,  in  all  probability, 
it  was  but  little  affected  by  the  arts  of  Absalom.  The 
inhabitants  lay  under  strong  obligations  to  David ; 
in  former  times  they  had  suffered  most  from  their 
neighbours,  Moab,  Ammon,  and  especially  Syria  ;  and 
now  they  enjoyed  a  very  different  lot,  ov^ing  to  the 
fact  that  those  powerful  nations  had  been  brought 
under  David's  rule.  It  was  a  fertile  district,  abounding 
in  all  kinds  of  farm  and  garden  produce,  and  therefore 
well  adapted  to  support  an  army  that  had  no  regular 
means  of  supply.  The  people  of  this  district  seem  to 
have  been  friendly  to  David's  cause.  The  little  force 
that  had  followed  him  from  Jerusalem  would  now  be 
largely  recruited  ;  and,  even  to  the  outward  sense,  he 
would  be  in  a  far  better  condition  to  receive  the  assault 
of  Absalom  than  on  the  day  Avhen  he  left  the  city. 

The  third  Psalm,  according  to  the  superscription — 
and  in  this  case  there  seems  no  cause  to  dispute  it — 
was  composed  ^'when  David  fled  from  Absalom  his  son." 
It  is  a  psalm  of  wonderful  serenity  and  perfect  trust. 
It  begins  with  a  touching  reference  to  the  multitude 
of  the  insurgents,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  they 
increased.  Everything  confirms  the  statement  that 
"the  conspiracy  was  strong,  and  that  the  people 
increased  continually  with  Absalom."  We  seem  to 
understand  better  why  David  fled  from  Jerusalem ; 
even  there  the  great  bulk  of  the  people  were  with  the 
usurper.  We  see,  too,  how  godless  and  unbelieving 
the  conspirators  were — ''Many  there  be  which  say  of 
my  soul.  There  is  no  help  for  him  in  God."  God  was 
cast  out  of  their  reckoning  as  of  no  consideration  in  the 
case ;  it  was  all  moonshine,  his  pretended  trust  in  Him. 
Material  forces  were  the  only  real  power ;  the  idea  of 
God's  favour  was  only  cant,  or  at  best  but  "  a  devout 


xvi.  I-I4;  xvii.]    FROM  JERUSALEM    TO   MAHAXAIM.       251 


too  firm  to  be  shaken  either  by  the  multitude  of  the 
insurgents  or  the  bitterness  of  their  sneers.  ''  Thou, 
Lord,  art  a  shield  unto  me"— ever  protecting  me,  ''my 
glory," — ever  honouring  me,  "and  the  lifter  up  of  mine 
head," — ever  setting  me  on  high  because  I  have 
known  Thy  name.  No  doubt  he  had  felt  some  tumult 
of  soul  when  the  insurrection  began.  But  prayer 
brought  him  tranquillity.  ''  I  cried  unto  God  with  my 
voice,  and  He  heard  me  out  of  His  holy  hill."  How  real 
the  communion  must  have  been  that  brought  tran-  | 
quillity  to  him  amid  such  a  sea  of  trouble  !  Even  in  the  [ 
midst  of  his  agitation  he  can  lie  down  and  sleep,  and  \ 
awake  refreshed  in  mind  and  body.  "  I  will  not  be  ^ 
afraid  of  ten  thousands  of  the  people  that  have  set  | 
themselves  against  me  round  about."  Faith  already  \ 
sees  his  enemies  defeated  and  receiving  the  doom  of  \ 
ungodly  men.  "  Arise,  O  Lord  ;  save  me,  O  my  God  ;  i 
for  Thou  hast  smitten  all  mine  enemies  upon  the  cheek  | 
bone;  Thou  hast  broken  the  teeth  of  the  ungodly."  j 
And  he  closes  as  confidently  and  serenely  as  if  victory  I 
had  already  come — •"  Salvation  belongeth  unto  the  \ 
Lord ;  Thy  blessing  is  upon  Thy  people."  | 

If,   in  this    solemn  crisis    of  his    history,   David    is        | 
a  pattern  to  us  of  meek  submission,  not  less  is  he  a        | 
pattern  of  perfect  trust.     He  is  strong  in  faith,  giving        | 
glory  to  God,  and  feeling  assured  that  what  He  has        | 
promised  He  is  able  also  to  perform.     Deeply  conscious        | 
of  his  own  sin,   he  at   the  same  time  most    cordially        ( 
believes  in  the  word  and  promise  of  God.     He  knows        j 
that,  though  chastened,  he  is  not  forsaken.     He  bows        | 
his  head  in  meek  acknowledgment  of  the  righteousness        | 
of  the  chastisement ;  but  he  lays  hold  with  unwavering        j 
trust  on  the  mercy  of  God.     This  union  of  submission        | 

{ 


252  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

and  trust,  is  one  of  priceless  value,  and  much  to  be 
sought  by  every  good  man.  Under  the  deepest  sense 
of  sin  and  unworthiness,  you  may  rejoice  and  you 
ought  to  rejoice,  in  the  provision  of  grace.  And  while 
rejoicing  most  cordially  in  the  provision  of  grace,  you 
ought  to  be  contrite  and  humble  for  your  sin.  You 
are  grievously  defective  if  you  want  either  of  these 
elements.  If  the  sense  of  sin  weighs  on  you  with 
unbroken  pressure,  if  it  keeps  you  from  believing  in 
forgiving  mercy,  if  it  hinders  you  from  looking  to  the 
cross,  to  Him  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world, 
there  is  a  grievous  defect.  If  your  joy  in  forgiving 
mercy  has  no  element  of  contrition,  no  chastened  sense 
of  unworthiness,  there  is  no  less  grievous  a  defect  in 
the  opposite  direction.  Let  us  try  at  once  to  feel  our 
unworthiness,  and  to  rejoice  in  the  mercy  that  freely 
pardons  and  accepts.  Let  us  look  to  the  rock  whence 
we  are  hewn,  and  to  the  hole  of  the  pit  whence  we 
are  digged  ;  feeling  that  we  are  great  sinners,  but  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  a  great  Saviour  ;  and  finding 
our  joy  in  that  faithful  saying,  ever  worthy  of  all 
acceptation,  that  '^  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to 
save  sinners,"  even  the  chief. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

ABSALOM  IN  COUNCIL, 
2  Samuel  xvi.  15—23  ;  xvii.  1—14,  and  ver.  23. 

WE  must  now  return  to  Jerusalem,  and  trace  the 
course  of  events  there  on  that  memorable  day 
when  David  left  it,  to  flee  toward  the  wilderness,  just 
a  few  hours  before  Absalom  entered  it  from  Hebron. 

When  Absalom  came  to  the  city,  there  was  no  trace 
of  an  enemy  to  oppose  him.  His  supporters  in  Jeru- 
salem would  no  doubt  go  out  to  meet  him,  and  conduct 
him  to  the  palace  with  great  demonstrations  of  delight. 
Eastern  nations  are  so  easily  roused  to  enthusiasm 
that  we  can  easily  believe  that,  even  for  Absalom,  there 
would  be  an  overpowering  demonstration  of  loyalty. 
Once  within  the  palace,  he  would  receive  the  adherence 
and  congratulations  of  his  friends. 

Among  these,  Hushai  the  Archite  presents  himself, 
having  returned  to  Jerusalem  at  David's  request,  and  it 
is  to  Hushai's  honour  that  Absalom  was  surprised  to 
see  him.  He  knew  him  to  be  too  good  a  man,  too  con- 
genial with  David  "  his  friend,"  to  be  hkely  to  follow 
such  a  standard  as  his.  There  is  much  to  be  read 
between  the  lines  here.  Hushai  was  not  only  a  coun- 
sellor, but  a  friend,  of  David's.  They  were  probably  of 
kindred  feeling  in  religious  matters,  earnest  in  serving 
God.     A  man  of  this  sort  did  not  seem  to  be  in  his  own 


254  TFiE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

place  among  the  supporters  of  Absalom.     It  was  a  silent 
confession    by   Absalom    that    his    supporters    were    a 
godless  crew,  among  whom  a  man  of  godliness  must 
be  out  of  his  element.     The  sight  of  Hushai  impressed 
Absalom   as  the   sight  of  an    earnest    Christian    in    a 
gambling  saloon  or  on  a  racecourse  would  impress  the 
greater  part  of  worldly  men.     For  even  the  world  has 
a  certain  faith  in  godliness, — to    this  extent,  at  least, 
that  it  ought  to  be  consistent.     You  may  stretch  a  point 
here  and  there  in  order  to  gain  favour  with  worldly  men. ; 
you  may  accommodate  yourselves  to  their  ways,  go  to 
this  and  to  that  place  of  amusement,  adopt  their  tone  of 
conversation,  join  with  them  in  ridiculing  the  excesses 
of  this  or  that  godly  man  or  woman  ;  but  you  are  not 
to  expect  that  by  such  approaches  you  will  rise  in  their 
esteem.     On  the  contrary,  you  may  expect  that  in  their 
secret  hearts  they  will  despise  you.     A  man  that  acts 
according  to  his  convictions  and  in  the  spirit  of  what 
he  professes  they  may  very  cordially  hate,  but  they  are 
constrained  to  respect.     A  man   that  does  violence  to 
the  spirit  of  his  religion,  in  his  desire  to  be  on  friendly 
terms  with  the  world  and  further  his  interests,  and  that 
does  many  things  to  please  them,  they  may  uot  hate 
so    strongly,  but    they  will    not   respect.     There    is    a 
fitness  of  things  to  which  the  world  is  sometimes  more 
alive  than  Christians  themselves.     Jehoshaphat  is  not 
in  his  own  place  making  a  league  with  Ahab,  and  going 
up  with   him  against  Ramoth-gilead ;    he  lays  himself 
open  to  the  rebuke  of  the  seer — "  Shouldest  thou  help 
the  ungodly,  and  love  them  that  hate  the  Lord  ?  there- 
fore is  wrath  upon  thee  from  before  the  Lord."     There 
is    no    New  Testament    precept    needing   to    be    more 
pondered  than  this — ''  Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  with 
vmbelievers  ;  for  what  communion  hath  light  with  dark- 


xvi.  15-23;  xvii.  1-14,  23.]    ABSALOM  IN  COUNCIL.  255 

ness  ?  or  what  fellowship  hath  Christ  with  Belial  ?  or 
what  communion  hath  he  that  believeth  with  an 
infidel  ?  " 

But  Hushai  was  not  content  with  putting  in  a  silent 
appearance  for  Absalom.  When  his  consistency  is 
challenged,  he  must  repudiate  the  idea  that  he  has  any 
preference  for  David ;  he  is  a  loyal  man  in  this  sense, 
that  he  attaches  himself  to  the  reigning  monarch,  and 
as  Absalom  has  received  overwhelming  tokens  in  his 
favour  from  every  quarter,  Hushai  is  resolved  to  stand 
by  him.  But  can  we  justify  these  professions  of 
Hushai  ?  It  is  plain  enough  he  went  on  the  principle 
of  fighting  Absalom  with  his  own  weapons,  of  pay- 
ing him  with  his  own  coin  ;  Absalom  had  dissembled 
so  profoundly,  he  had  made  treachery,  so  to  speak,  so 
much  the  current  coin  of  the  kingdom,  that  Hushai 
determined  to  use  it  for  his  own  purposes.     Yet,  even  • 

in   these  circumstances,  the   deliberate  dissembling  of  \ 

Hushai    grates    against   every    tender   conscience,  and  j 

more  especially  his  introduction  of  the  name  of  Jehovah  1 

— ''  Nay,  but  whom  the  Lord,  and  this  people,  and  all  the  1 

men  of  Israel  choose,  his  will  I  be,  and  with  him  will  I  { 

abide."     Was  not  this  taking  the  name  of  the  Lord  his  !v 

God  in  vain  ?     The  stratagem  had  been  suggested  by         | 
David  ;  it  was  not  condemned  by  the  voice  of  the  age  ;  | 

and  we    are    not    prepared    to    say  that    stratagem    is  | 

always  to  be  condemned  ;  but  surely,  in  our  time,  the  I 
claims  of  truth  and  fair  dealing  would  stamp  it  as  a  | 
disreputable  device,  not  sanctified  by  the  end  for  [ 
which  it  was  resorted  to,  and  not  worthy  the  followers  I 
of  Him  "  who  did  no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in 
His  mouth." 

Having  established  himself  in  the  confidence  of 
Absalom,   Hushai  gained  a   right   to   be   consulted   in 


2  56  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

the  deliberations  of  the  day.  lie  enters  Che  room 
where  the  new  king's  counsellors  are  met,  but  he  finds 
it  a  godless  assemblage.  In  planning  the  most  awful 
wickedness,  a  cool  deliberation  prevails  that  shows 
how  familiar  the  counsellors  are  with  the  ways  of 
sin.  ''  Give  counsel  among  you,"  says  the  royal  presi- 
dent, ''what  we  shall  do."  How  different  from  David's  j 
way  of  opening  the  business — "  Bring  hither  the  ephod,  j 
and  enquire  of  the  Lord."  In  Absalom's  council  help 
of  that  kind  is  neither  asked  nor  desired. 

The  first    to   propose  a    course  is  Ahithophel,   and  j 

there  is  something  so   revolting   in    the  first    scheme  | 

which   he    proposed    that  we  wonder  much   that  such  \ 

a  man  should   ever  have  been  a  counsellor  of  David.  { 

His  first  piece  of  advice,  that  Absalom  should  pubhcly  \ 

take  possession  of  his  father's  concubines,  was  designed  i 

to  put  an  end  to  any  wavering  among  the  people ;  it 
was,  according   to   Eastern   ideas,   the  grossest  insult  , 

that  could  be  offered  to  a  king,  and  that  king  a  father,  l 

and  it  would  prove  that  the  breach  between  David  and  { 

Absalom  was  irreparable,  that  it  was  vain  to  hope  for  ■ 

any  reconciliation.     They  must  all  make  up  their  minds  \ 

to  take  a  side,  and  as  Absalom's  cause  was  so  popular,  i. 

it  was  far  the  most  likely  they  would  side  with  him.  | 

Without  hesitation  Absalom  complied  with  the  advice.  \ 

It  is  a  proof  how  hard  his  heart  had  become,  that  he  [ 

did  not  hesitate  to  mock  his  father  by  an   act  which  [ 

was   as  disgusting  as  it  was  insulting.     And  what  a  j 

picture  we  get  of  the  position  of  women  even  in  the  j 

court  of  King  David  1     They  were  slaves  in  the  worst  i 

sense  of  the  term,  with  no  right  even  to  guard  their  j 

virtue,  or  to  protect  their  persons  from  the  very  worst  | 

of  men ;  for  the  custom  of  the  country,  when  it  gave  1 

him   the   throne,    gave   him    likewise   the   bodies   and  ' 


xvi  15-23;  xvii.  1-14,23.]     ABSALOM  IN  COUNCIL.  257 

souls  of  the  women  of  the  harem  to  do  with   as  he 
pleased  ! 

The  next  piece  of  Ahithophel's  counsel  was  a  master- 
piece alike  of  sagacity  and  of  wickedness.  He  proposed 
to  take  a  select  body  of  twelve  thousand  out  of  the 
troops  that  had  already  flocked  to  Absalom's  standard, 
and  follow  the  fugitive  king.  That  very  night  he 
would  set  out ;  and  in  a  few  hours  they  would  over- 
take the  king  and  his  handful  of  defenders  ;  they  would 
destroy  no  life  but  the  king's  only ;  and  thus,  by  an 
almost  bloodless  revolution,  they  would  place  Absalom 
peacefully  on  the  throne.  The  advantages  of  the  plan 
were  obvious.  It  was  prompt,  it  seemed  certain  of 
success,  and  it  would  avoid  an  unpopular  slaughter. 
So  strongly  was  Ahithophel  impressed  with  the  advan- 
tages that  it  seemed  impossible  that  it  could  be  opposed, 
far  less  rejected.  One  element  only  he  left  out  of  his 
reckoning — that  "  as  the  mountains  are  round  about 
Jerusalem,  so  the  Lord  God  is  round  about  His  people 
from  henceforth  even  for  ever."  He  forgot  how^  many 
methods  of  protecting  David  God  had  already  employed. 
From  the  lion  and  the  bear  He  had  delivered  him  in 
his  youth,  by  giving  strength  to  his  arm  and  courage 
to  his  heart ;  from  the  uncircumcised  Philistine  He 
had  delivered  him  by  guiding  the  stone  projected  from 
his  sling  to  the  forehead  of  the  giant;  from  Saul,  at 
one  time  through  Michal  letting  him  down  from  a 
window  ;  at  another,  through  Jonathan  taking  his  side  ; 
at  a  third,  by  an  invasion  of  the  Philistines  calling 
Saul  away ;  and  now  He  was  preparing  to  deliver  him 
from  Absalom  by  a  still  different  method  :  by  causing 
the  shallow^  proposal  of  Hushai  to  find  more  favour 
than  the  sagacious  counsel  of  Ahithophel. 

It  must    have    been  a  moment  of  great  anxiety  to 
VOL.  II.  17 


2S8  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

Hushai  when  the  man  whose  counsel  was  as  the  oracle 
of  God  sat  down  amid  universal  approval,  after  having 
propounded  the  very  advice  of  which  he  was  most  afraid. 
But  he  shows  great  coolness  and  skill  in  recommending 
his  own  course,  and  in  trying  to  make  the  worse 
appear  the  better  reason.  He  opens  with  an  implied 
compliment  to  Ahithophel — his  counsel  is  not  good  at 
this  time.  It  may  have  been  excellent  on  all  other 
occasions,  but  the  present  is  an  exception.  Then  he 
dwells  on  the  warlike  character  of  David  and  his  men, 
and  on  the  exasperated  state  of  mind  in  which  they 
might  be  supposed  to  be ;  probably  they  were  at  that 
moment  in  some  cave,  where  no  idea  of  their  numbers 
could  be  got,  and  from  which  they  might  make  a 
sudden  sally  on  Absalom's  troops  ;  and  if,  on  occasion 
of  an  encounter  between  the  two  armies,  some  of 
Absalom's  were  to  fall,  people  would  take  it  as  a  defeat ; 
a  panic  might  seize  the  army,  and  his  followers  might 
disperse  as  quickly  as  they  had  assembled. 

But  the  concluding  stroke  was  the  masterpiece.  He 
knew  that  vanity  was  Absalom's  besetting  sin.  The 
young  m.an  that  had  prepared  chariots  and  horses,  and 
fifty  men  to  run  before  him,  that  had  been  accustomed 
to  poll  his  head  from  year  to  year  and  weigh  it  with 
so  much  care,  and  whose  praise  was  throughout  all 
Israel  for  beauty,  must  be  flattered  by  a  picture  of  the 
whole  host  of  Israel  marshalled  around  him,  and  going 
forth  in  proud  array,  with  him  at  its  head.  "  Therefore 
I  counsel  that  all  Israel  be  generally  gathered  unto  thee, 
from  Dan  even  to  Beersheba,  as  the  sand  that  is  by 
the  sea  for  multitude,  and  that  thou  go  to  battle  in 
thine  own  person.  So  shall  we  come  upon  him  in 
some  place  where  he  may  be  found,  and  we  will  light 
upon  him  as  the  dew  falleth  on  the  ground;  and  of 


xvi.  15-23;  xvii.  1-14,  23.]    ABSALOM  IN  COUNCIL.  259 


him  and  of  all  the  men  that  are  with  him  there  shall 
not  be  left  so  much  as  one.  Moreover,  if  he  be  gotten 
into  a  city,  then  shall  all  Israel  bring  ropes  to  that 
city,  and  we  will  draw  it  into  the  river  until  there  shall 
not  be  one  small  stone  left  there." 

It  is  with  counsel  as  with  many  other  things  :  what 
pleases  best  is  thought  best ;  solid  merit  gives  way  to 
superficial  plausibility.  The  counsel  of  Hushai  pleased 
better  than  that  of  Ahithophel,  and  so  it  was  preferred. 
Satan  had  outwitted  himself.  He  had  nursed  in 
Absalom  an  overweening  vanity,  intending  by  its  means 
to  overturn  the  throne  of  David  ;  and  now  that  very 
vanity  becomes  the  means  of  defeating  the  scheme, 
and  laying  the  foundation  of  Absalom's  ruin.  The 
turning-point  in  Absalom's  mind  seems  to  have  been 
the  magnificent  spectacle  of  the  whole  of  Israel 
mustered  for  battle,  and  Absalom  at  their  head.  He 
was  fascinated  by  the  brilliant  imagination.  How 
easily  may  God,  when  He  pleases,  defeat  the  most  able 
schemes  of  His  enemies  I  He  does  not  need  to  create 
weapons  to  oppose  them ;  He  has  only  to  turn  their 
own  weapons  against  themselves.  What  an  encourage- 
ment to  faith  even  when  the  fortunes  of  the  Church 
are  at  their  lowest  ebb  !  '^  The  kings  of  the  earth  set 
themselves,  and  the  rulers  take  counsel  together  against 
the  Lord,  and  against  His  anointed,  saying,  Let  us  break 
their  bonds  asunder,  and  cast  away  their  cords  from  us. 
He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall  laugh ;  the  Lord 
shall  have  them  in  derision.  Then  shall  He  speak  to 
them  in  wrath,  and  vex  them  in  His  sore  displeasure. 
Yet  have  I  set  my  king  upon  my  holy  hill  of  Zion." 

The  council  is  over;  Hushai,  unspeakably  relieved, 
hastens  to  communicate  with  the  priests,  and  through 
them  send  messengers  to  David ;  Absalom  withdraws  to 


26o  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

^ I 

delight  himself  with  the  thought  of  the  great  military     i 
muster  that  is  to  flock  to  his  standard  ;  while  Ahitho-     • 
phel,   in    high    dudgeon,    retires    to    his    house.       The     1 
character   of  Ahithophel  was  a   singular  combination.     , 
To    deep    natural    sagacity    he    united    great    spiritual     I 
blindness  and  lack  of  true  manliness.     He  saw  at  once     J 
the  danger  to  the  cause  of  Absalom  in  the  plan  that 
had   been   preferred   to  his  own  ;  but  it  was  not  that 
consideration,  it  was  the  gross  affront  to  himself  that     j 
preyed    on    him,    and    drove    him    to    commit    suicide.      \ 
*'  When   Ahithophel    saw    that     his    counsel   was    not     | 
followed,  he  saddled    his  ass  and  arose  and    gat  him      | 
home  to  his  house,  to  his  city,  and  put  his  household      j 
in  order,  and  hanged  himself  and  died,  and  was  buried     | 
in  the  sepulchre  of  his  father."     In  his  own  way  he     'i 
was  as  much  the  victim  of  vanity  as  Absalom.     The      i 
one  was  vain  of  his  person,  the  other  of  his  wisdom. 
In  each    case  it   was  the  man's  vanity  that  was    the 
cause  of  his  death.     What  a  contrast  Ahithophel  was      • 
to  David  in  his  power  of  bearing   disgrace  ! — David,      | 
though  with  bowed  head,  bearing  up  so  bravely,  and     } 
even    restrainin'g   his   followers   from    chastising  some      j 
of  those  who   w^ere   so   vehemently    affronting    him  ;      ' 
Ahithophel    unable    to    endure    life    because    for   once      | 
another  man's  counsel  had  been  preferred  to  his.     Men      \ 
of  the  richest  gifts  have  often  shown  themselves  babes      I 
in  self-control.     Ahithophel  is  the  Judas  of  the  New      | 
Testament,  lays  plans  for  the  destruction  of  his  master, 
and,  like  Judas,  falls  almost  immediately,  by  his  own 
hand.     ''What  a  mixture,"  says  Bishop  Hall,   "do  we       | 
find   here  of  wisdom  and   madness  !     Ahithophel  will       j 
needs  hang  himself,  there  is  madness  ;  he  will  yet  set 
his  house  in  order,  the^'e  is  wisdom.     And  could  it  be 
possible  that  he  that  was  so  wise  as  to  set  his  house 


xvi.  15-23;  xvii.  1-14,23.]     ABSALOM  IN  COUNCIL.  261 

in  order  was  so  mad  as  to  hang  himself  ?  that  he 
siiould  be  so  careful  to  order  his  house  who  had  no 
care  to  order  his  unruly  passions  ?  that  he  should  care 
for  his  house  who  cared  not  for  his  body  or  his  soul  ? 
How  vain  is  it  for  man  to  be  wise  if  he  is  not  wise  in 
God.  How  preposterous  are  the  cares  of  idle  world- 
lings, that  prefer  all  other  things  to  themselves,  and 
while  they  look  at  what  they  have  in  their  coffers 
forget  what  they  have  in  their  breasts." 

This  council-chamber  of  Absalom  is  full  of  material 
for  profitable  reflection.  The  manner  in  which  he  was 
turned  aside  from  the  way  of  wisdom  and  safety  is  a  re- 
markable illustration  of  our  Lord's  principle—  "  If  thine 
eye  be  single,  thy  whole  body  shall  be  full  of  light." 
We  are  accustomed  to  view  this  principle  chiefly  in  its 
relation  to  moral  and  spiritual  life  ;  but  it  is  appHcable 
likewise  even  to  worldly  affairs.  Absalom's  eye  was 
not  single.  Success,  no  doubt,  was  the  chief  object  at 
which  he  aimed,  but  another  object  was  the  gratification 
of  his  vanity.  This  inferior  object  was  allowed  to  come 
in  and  disturb  his  judgment.  If  Absalom  had  had  a 
single  eye,  even  in  a  worldly  sense,  he  would  have  felt 
profoundly  that  the  one  thing  to  be  considered  was,  how  I 

to  get  rid  of  David  and  establish  himself  firmly  on  the  | 

throne.     But  instead  of  studying  this  one  thing  with  | 

firm  and  immovable  purpose,  he  allowed  the  vision  of  | 

a  great  muster  of  troops  commanded  by  himself  to  come  | 

in,  and  so  to  distract  his  judgment  that  he  gave  his  • 

decision  for  the  latter  course.      No  doubt  he  thought  | 

that  his  position  was  so  secure  that  he  could  afford  the  | 

few  days'  delay  which  this  scheme  involved.  All  the 
same,  it  was  this  disturbing  element  of  personal  vanity 
that  gave  a  twist  to  his  vision,  and  led  him  to  the  con- 
clusion which  lost  him  everything. 


262  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  j 

For  even  in  worldly  things,  singleness  of  eye  is  a  great 
help  towards  a  sound  conclusion.     ''To  the  upright  there     ; 
ariseth  light  in  the  darkness."    And  if  this  rule  hold  true     I 
in  the  worldly  sphere,  much  more  in  the  moral  and     | 
spiritual.     It  is  when  you  have  the  profoundest  desire     I 
to  do  what  is  right  that  you  are  in  the  best  way  to      I 
know  what  is  wise.     In  the  service  of  God  you  are      ! 
grievously  liable  to  be  distracted  by  private  feelings  and     -; 
interests  of  your  own.    It  is  when  these  private  interests      | 
assert  themselves  that  you  are  most  liable  to  lose  the      .| 
clear  line  of  duty  and  of  wisdom.     You  wish  to  do      | 
God's  will,  but  at  the  same  time  you  are  very  unwilling      i 
to  sacrifice  this   interest,  or  expose   yourself  to  that      i 
trouble.     Thus  your  own  feeling  becomes  a  screen  that      \ 
dims  your  vision,  and  prevents  you  from  seeing  the  path      | 
of  duty  and  wisdom  alike.     You  have  not  a  clear  sight      ! 
of  the  right  path.     You  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  per-      | 
plexity ;    whereas  men    of  more   single   purpose,    and       \ 
more  regardless  of  their  own  interests,  see  clearly  and 
act  wisely.     Was  there  anything  more  remarkable  in       , 
the  Apostle  Paul  than  the  clearness  of  his  vision,  the 
decisive  yet  admirable  way  in  which  he  solved  perplexing      j 
questions,  and  the  high  practical  wisdom  that  guided      ■; 
him  throughout  ?    And  is  not  this  to  be  connected  with       •; 
his  singleness  of  eye,  his  utter  disregard  of  personal       j 
interests  in  his  public  Hfe — his  entire  devotion  to  the       \ 
Vi^ill  and   to    the  service   of  his    Master?     From  that       ] 
memorable  hour  on  the  way  to  Damascus,  when  he  put 
the    question,    "  Lord,    what    wilt    Thou    have    me    to 
do  ?  "  onward  to  the  day  when  he  laid  his  head  on  the 
block  in  imperial  Rome,  the  one  interest  of  his  heart,        j 
the  one  thought  of  his  mind,  was  to  do  the  will  of  Christ.       ~| 
Never  was  an  eye  more  single,  and  never  was  a  body       j 
more  full  of  light.  I 


xvi.  15-23;  xvii.  1-14,23.]    ABSALOM  IN  COUNCIL.  263 

But  again,  from  that  council-chamber  of  Absalom 
and  its  results  we  learn  how  all  projects  founded  on 
godlessness  and  selfishness  carry  in  their  bosom  the 
elements  of  dissolution.  They  have  no  true  principle 
of  coherence,  no  firm,  binding  element,  to  secure  them 
against  disturbing  influences  arising  from  further  mani- 
festations of  selfishness  on  the  part  of  those  engaged  in 
them.  Men  may  be  united  by  selfish  interest  in  some 
undertaking  up  to  a  certain  point,  but,  Hke  a  rocket  in 
the  air,  selfishness  is  liable  to  burst  up  in  a  thousand 
different  directions,  and  then  the  bond  of  union  is  de- 
stroyed. The  only  bond  of  union  that  can  resist  dis- 
tracting tendencies  is  an  immovable  regard  to  the  will 
of  God,  and,  in  subordination  thereto,  to  the  welfare  of 
men.  In  our  fallen  world  it  is  seldom — rather,  it  is  never 
— that  any  great  enterprise  is  undertaken  and  carried 
forward  on  grounds  where  selfishness  has  no  place 
whatever.  But  we  may  say  this  very  confidently,  that 
the  more  an  undertaking  is  based  on  regard  to  God's 
will  and  the  good  of  men,  the  more  stability  and 
true  prosperity  will  it  enjoy ;  whereas  every  element  of 
selfishness  or  self-seeking  that  may  be  introduced  into 
it  is  an  element  of  weakness,  and  tends  to  its  dissolution. 
The  remark  is  true  of  Churches  and  religious  societies,  | 

of  religious  movements  and  political  movements  too.  | 

Men  that  are  not  overawed,  as  it  were,  by  a  supreme  I 

regard  to  the  will  of  God ;  men  to  whom  the  considera-  | 

tion  of  that  will  is  not  strong  enough  at  once  to  smr:e  | 

down    every    selfish    feeling    that    may   arise   in    their  ! 

minds,  will  always  be  liable  to  desire  some  object  of  ( 

their  own  rather  than  the  good  of  the  whole.  They 
will  begin  to  complain  if  they  are  not  sufficiently  con- 
sidered and  honoured.  They  will  allow  jealousies  and 
suspicions  towards  those  who  have  most  influence  to 


264  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

arise  in  their  hearts.  They  will  get  into  caves  to  air 
their  discontent  with  those  like-minded.  All  this  tends 
to  weakness  and  dissolution.  Selfishness  is  the  serpent 
that  comes  crawling  into  many  a  hopeful  garden,  and 
brings  with  it  division  and  desolation.  In  private  life, 
it  should  be  watched  and  thwarted  as  the  grievous  foe 
of  all  that  is  good  and  right.  The  same  course  should 
be  taken  with  regard  to  it  in  all  the  associations  of 
Christians.  And  it  is  Christian  men  only  that  are 
capable  of  uniting  on  grounds  so  high  and  pure  as  to 
give  some  hope  that  this  evil  spirit  will  not  succeed 
in  disuniting  them— that  is  to  say,  men  who  feel  and 
act  on  the  obligations  under  which  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  has  placed  them  ;  men  that  feel  that  their  own 
redemption,  and  every  blessing  they  have  or  hope  to 
have,  come  through  the  wonderful  self-denial  of  the  Son 
of  God,  and  that  if  they  have  the  faintest  right  to  His 
holy  name  they  must  not  shrink  from  the  like  self- 
denial.  It  is  a  happy  thing  to  be  able  to  adopt  as  our 
rule — ''None  of  us  Hveth  to  himself;  for  whether 
we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord,  or  whether  we  die,  we 
die  unto  the  Lord  ;  whether  we  live  therefore  or  die, 
we  are  the  Lord's."  The  more  this  rule  prevails  in 
Churches  and  Christian  societies,  the  more  will  there 
be  of  union  and  stability  too ;  but  with  its  neglect,  all 
kinds  of  evil  and  trouble  will  come  in,  and  very  probably, 
disruption  and  dissolution  in  the  end. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

2  Samuel  xviii.  i — 18. 
A BSALOAfS  DEFEA  T  A ND  DEA  TU. 

WHATEVER  fears  of  defeat  and  destruction  might 
occasionally  flit  across  David's  soul  between  his 
flight  from  Jerusalem  and  the  battle  in  the  wood  of 
Ephraim,  it  is  plain  both  from  his  actions  and  from  his 
songs  that  his  habitual  frame  was  one  of  serenity  and 
trust.  The  number  of  psalms  ascribed  to  this  period 
of  his  life  may  be  in  excess  of  the  truth  ;  but  that  his 
heart  was  in  near  communion  with  God  all  the  time 
we  cannot  doubt.  Situated  as  his  present  refuge  was 
not  far  from  Peniel,  where  Jacob  had  wrestled  with  the 
angel,  we  may  believe  that  there  were  wrestlings  again 
in  the  neighbourhood  not  unworthy  to  be  classed  with 
that  from  which  Peniel  derived  its  memorable  name. 

In  the  present  emergency  the  answer  to  prayer 
consisted,  first,  in  the  breathing-time  secured  by  the 
success  of  Hushai's  counsel ;  second,  in  the  countenance 
and  support  of  the  friends  raised  up  to  David  near 
Mahanaim ;  and  last,  not  least,  in  the  spirit  of  wisdom 
and  harmony  with  which  all  the  arrangements  were 
made  for  the  inevitable  encounter.  Every  step  was 
taken  with  prudence,  while  every  movement  of  his 
opponents  seems  to  have  been  a  blunder.  It  was  wise 
in  David,  as  we  have  already  seen,  to  cross  the  Jordan 


266  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

and  retire  into  Gilead  ;  it  was  wise  in  him  to  make 
Mahanaim  his  headquarters  ;  it  was  wise  to  divide  his 
army  into  three  parts,  for  a  reason  that  will  presently 
be  seen ;  and  it  was  wise  to  have  a  wood  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  battlefield,  though  it  could  not  have 
been  foreseen  how  this  was  to  bear  on  the  individual 
on  whose  behalf  the  insurrection  had  taken  place. 

By  this  time  the  followers  of  David  had  grown  to 
the  dimensions  of  an  army.  We  are  furnished  with  no 
means  of  knowing  its  actual  number.  Josephus  puts  it 
at  four  thousand,  but,  judging  from  some  casual  expres- 
sions ("  David  set  captains  of  hundreds  and  captains 
of  thousands  over  them,"  ver.  I  ;  "  Now  thou  art  worth 
ten  thousand  of  us,"  ver.  3 ;  '^  The  people  came  by 
thousands,"  ver.  4),  we  should  infer  that  David's  force 
amounted  to  a  good  many  thousands.  The  division  of 
the  army  into  three  parts,  however,  reminding  us,  as 
it  does,  of  Gideon's  division  of  his  Uttle  force  into 
three,  would  seem  to  imply  that  David's  force  was  far 
inferior  in  number  to  Absalom's.  The  insurrectionary 
army  must  have  been  very  large,  and  stretching  over  a 
great  breadth  of  country,  would  have  presented  far  too 
wide  a  line  to  be  effectually  dealt  with  by  a  single  body 
of  troops,  comparatively  small.  Gideon  had  divided  his 
handful  into  three  that  he  might  make  a  simultaneous 
impression  on  three  different  parts  of  the  Midianite 
host,  and  thus  contribute  the  better  to  the  defeat  of  the 
whole.  So  David  divided  his  army  into  three,  that, 
meeting  Absalom's  at  three  different  points,  he  might 
prevent  a  concentration  of  the  enemy  that  would  have 
swallowed  up  his  whole  force.  David  had  the  advan- 
tage of  choosing  his  ground,  and  his  military  instinct 
and  long  experience  would  doubtless  enable  him  to  do 
this   with  great  effect.     His  three  generals  were  able 


xviii.  i-iS.J    ABSALOM'S  DEFEAT  AND  DEATH.  267 

and  valuable  leaders.  The  aged  king  was  prepared  to 
take  part  in  the  battle,  believing  that  his  presence 
would  be  helpful  to  his  men ;  but  the  people  would  not  | 

allow  him  to  run  the  risk.     Aged  and  somewhat  infirm  ( 

as  he  seems  to  have  been,  wearied  with  his  flight,  and  \ 

weakened    with    the    anxieties    of   so    distressing    an  \ 

occasion,    the    excitement    of    the    battle    might    have  \ 

proved   too  much  for  him,  even  if  he  had  escaped  the  \ 

enemy's  sword.     Besides,  everything  depended  on  him  ;  [ 

if  his  place  were  discovered  by  the  enemy,  their  hottest  j 

assault  would  be  directed  to  it ;  and  if  he  should  fall, 
there  would  be  left  no  cause  to  fight  for.  ''  It  is  better," 
they  said  to  him,  ''that  thou  succour  us  out  of  the  city." 
What  kind  of  succour  could  he  render  there  ?  Only 
the  succour  that  Moses  and  his  two  attendants  rendered  I 

to  Israel  in  the  fight  with  Amalek  in  the  wilderness, 
when  Moses  held  up  his  hands,  and  Aaron  and  Hur 
propped  them  up.  He  might  pray  for  them  ;  he  could 
do  no  more. 

By  this  time  Absalom  had  probably  obtained  the 
great  object  of  his  ambition  ;  he  had  mustered  Israel 
from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  and  found  himself  at  the  head 
of  an  array  very  magnificent  in  appearance,  but,  like 
most  Oriental  gatherings  of  the  kind,  somewhat  un- 
wieldy and  unworkable.  This  great  conglomeration  was 
now  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  Mahanaim,  and 
must  have  seemed  as  if  by  sheer  weight  of  material  it 
would  crush  any  force  that  could  be  brought  against  it.  | 

We  read  that  the  battle  took  place  '*'  in  the  w^ood  of         | 
Ephraim."     This  could  not  be  a  wood  in  the  tribe  of  j 

Ephraim,   for  that  was  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan,  but  j 

a  wood  in  Gilead,  that  for  some  reason  unknown  to  us  I 

had   been  called  by  that  name.     The  whole  region  is  | 

still  richly  wooded,  and  among  its  prominent  trees  is  one  i 


268  THE  SECOND.  BOOK  OF    SAMUEL. 

called  the  prickly  oak.  A  dense  wood  would  obviously 
be  unsuitable  for  battle,  but  a  wooded  district,  with 
clumps  here  and  there,  especially  on  the  hill-sides,  and 
occasional  trees  and  brushwood  scattered  over  the  plains^ 
would  present  many  advantages  to  a  smaller  force 
opposing  the  onset  of  a  larger.  In  the  American  war  of 
1755  some  of  the  best  troops  of  England  were  nearly 
annihilated  in  a  wood  near  Pittsburg  in  Pennsylvania, 
the  Indians  levelling  their  rifles  unseen  from  behind 
the  trees,  and  discharging  them  with  yells  that  were 
even  more  terrible  than  their  weapons.  We  may 
fancy  the  three  battalions  of  David  making  a  vigorous 
onslaught  on  Absalom's  troops  as  they  advanced  into 
the  wooded  country,  and  when  they  began  to  retreat 
through  the  woods,  and  got  entangled  in  brushwood,  or 
jammed  together  by  thickset  trees,  discharging  arrows 
at  them,  or  falling  on  them  with  the  sword,  with  most 
disastrous  effect.  ''  There  was  a  great  slaughter  that 
day  of  twenty  thousand  men.  For  the  battle  there  was 
scattered  over  the  face  of  all  the  country,  and  the  wood 
devoured  more  people  that  day  than  the  sword  de- 
voured." Many  of  David's  men  were  probably  natives 
of  the  country,  and  in  their  many  encounters  with 
the  neighbouring  nations  had  become  familiar  with  the 
warfare  of  ^'  the  bush."  Here  was  one  benefit  of  the 
choice  of  Mahanaim  by  David  as  his  rallying-ground. 
The  people  that  joined  him  from  that  quarter  knew  the 
ground,  and  knew  how  to  adapt  it  to  fighting  purposes ; 
the  most  of  Absalom's  forces  had  been  accustomed 
to  the  bare  wadies  and  hmestone  rocks  of  Western 
Palestine,  and,  when  caught  in  the  thickets,  could 
neither  use  their  weapons  nor  save  themselves  by 
flight. 

Very  touching,  if  not  very  business-like,  had  been 


xviii.  i-i8.]   ABSALOM'S  DEFEAT  AND  DEATH.  269 

David's  instructions  to  his  generals  about  Absalom  : 
"  The  king  commanded  Joab  and  Abishai  and  Ittai 
saying,  Deal  gently  for  my  sake  with  the  young  man, 
even  with  Absalom.  And  all  the  people  heard  when 
the   king    gave    all    the    captains    charge    concerning  | 

Absalom."  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  David  fully 
expects  to  win.  There  is  no  hint  of  any  alternative, 
as  if  Absalom  would  not  fall  into  their  hands.     David  \ 

knows  that  he  is  going  to  conquer,  as  well  as  he  knew 
it  when   he  went  against   the  giant.     The  confidence  j 

which  is  breathed  in  the  third  Psalm  is  apparent  here.  | 

Faith  saw  his  enemies  already  defeated.  "  Thou  hast  [ 
smitten  all  mine  enemies  upon  the  cheekbone  ;   Thou  | 

hast  broken  the  teeth  of  the  ungodly.  Salvation  be-  | 
longeth  unto  the  Lord  ;  Thy  blessing  is  upon  Thy  | 
people."  In  a  pitched  battle,  God  could  not  give  \ 
success  to  a  godless  crew,  whose  whole  enterprise  was  <^ 

undertaken  to  drive  God's  anointed  one  from  his  \ 
throne.  Temporary  and  partial  successes  they  might  \ 
have,  but  final  success  it  was  morally  impossible  for  \ 
God  to  accord.  It  was  not  the  spirit  of  his  own  troops,  i 
nor  the  undisciplined  condition  of  the  opposing  host,  i 
that  inspired  this  confidence,  but  the  knowledge  that  [, 
there  was  a  God  in  Israel,  who  would  not  suffer  His  !^ 
anointed  to  perish,  nor  the  impious  usurper  to  triumph  | 
over  him.  ^ 

We  cannot  tell  whether  Absalom  was  visited  with  | 
any  misgivings  as  to  the  result  before  the  battle  began.  | 
Very  probably  he  was  not.  Having  no  faith  in  God,  \ 
he  would  make  no  account  whatever  of  what  David  \ 
regarded  as  the  Divine  palladium  of  his  cause.  But  | 
if  he  entered  on  the  battle  confident  of  success,  his  ! 
anguish  is  not  to  be  conceived  when  he  saw  his  troops  j 
yield  to  panic,  and,  in  wild  disorder,  try  to  dash  through        1 

i 

! 


270  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

the  wood.  Dreadful  miseries  must  have  overwhelmed 
him.  He  does  not  appear  to  have  made  any  attempt 
to  rally  his  troops.  Riding  on  a  mule,  in  his  haste  to 
escape,  he  probably  plunged  into  some  thick  part  of  the 
wood,  where  his  head  came  in  contact  with  a  mass  of 
prickly  oak ;  struggling  to  make  a  way  through  it,  he 
only  entangled  his  hair  more  hopelessly  in  the  thicket ; 
then,  raising  himself  in  the  saddle  to  attack  it  with 
his  hands,  his  mule  went  from  under  him,  and  left  him 
hanging  between  heaven  and  earth,  maddened  by  pain, 
enraged  at  the  absurdity  of  his  plight,  and  storming 
against  his  attendants,  none  of  whom  was  near  him 
in  his  time  of  need.  Nor  was  this  the  worst  of  it. 
Absalom  was  probably  among  the  foremost  of  the 
fugitives,  and  we  can  hardly  suppose  but  that  many  of 
his  own  people  fled  that  way  after  him.  Could  it  be 
that  all  of  them  were  so  eager  to  escape  that  not  one 
of  them  would  stop  to  help  their  king  ?  What  a  con- 
trast the  condition  of  Absalom  when  fortune  turned 
against  him  to  that  of  his  father  !  Dark  though 
David's  trials  had  been,  and  seemingly  desperate  his 
position,  he  had  not  been  left  alone  in  its  sudden 
horrors ;  the  devotion  of  strangers,  as  well  as  the 
fidelity  of  a  few  attached  friends,  had  cheered  him,  and 
had  the  worst  disaster  befallen  him,  had  his  troops 
been  routed  and  his  cause  ruined,  there  were  warm 
and  bold  hearts  that  would  not  have  deserted  him  in 
his  extremity,  that  would  have  formed  a  wall  around 
him,  and  with  their  lives  defended  his  grey  hairs.  But 
when  the  hour  of  calamity  came  to  Absalom  it  found 
him  alone.  Even  Saul  had  his  armour-bearer  at  his 
side  when  he  fled  over  Gilboa;  but  neither  armour- 
bearer  nor  friend  attended  Absalom  as  he  fled  from 
the  battle  of  the  wood  of  Ephraim.     It   would  have 


:cvm.  i-i8.]   ABSALOM'S  DEFEAT  AND  DEATH.  271  [ 

been  well  for  him  if  he  had  really  gained  a  few  of  the 

many  hearts  he  stole.     Much  though  moralists  tell  us  \ 

of  the  heartlessness  of  the  world  in  the  hour  of  adver-  | 

sity,    we    should    not    have    expected    to    light    on    so  | 

extreme  a  case  of  it.     We  can  hardly  withhold  a  tear  | 

at  the  sight  of  the  unhappy  youth,  an  hour  ago  with  " 
thousands  eager  to  obey  him,  and  a  throne  before  him, 

apparently  secure  from  danger ;  now  hanging  helpless  \ 

between  earth  and  heaven,  with  no  companion  but  an  f 

evil  conscience,  and  no  prospect  but  the  judgment  of  \ 

an  oftended  God.  | 

A  recent    writer,  in   his    '^  History   of  the   English  ; 

People"  (Green),  when  narrating  the  fall  of  Cardinal  ^^ 

Wolsey,  powerfully  describes  the  way  of  Providence  in  ii 

suffering  a  career  of  unexampled  wickedness  and  ambi-  | 

lion  to  go  on  from  one  degree  of  prosperity  to  another,  | 

till  the  moment  of  doom  arrives,  when  all  is  shattered  | 

by  a  single    blow.     There  was  long    delay,  but   "  the  ^' 

hour  of  reckoning  at  length  arrived.     Slowly  the  hand  ; 

had   crawled    along    the    dial- plate,    slowly   as    if  the  \ 

event  would  never  come  ;  and  wrong  was  heaped  on  \ 

wrong,  and  oppression  cried,  and  it  seemed  as  if  no  ear  \ 

had  heard  its  voice,  till  the  measure  of  the  wickedness  ] 

was  at  length  fulfilled.     The  finger  touched  the  hour ;  | 

and  as  the  strokes  of  the  great  hammer  rang  out  above  f 

the  nation,  in  an  instant  the  whole  fabric  of  iniquity  ;| 

was  shivered  to  ruins."  | 

This  hour  had  now  come  to  Absalom.     He  had  often  | 

been  reproved,  but  had  hardened  his  heart,  and  was  | 

now  to   be  destroyed,  and   that  without    remedy.     In  \ 

the  person   of  Joab,   God    found   a  fitting   instrument  ; 

for  carrying  His  purpose  into  effect.     The  character  of  j 

Joab  is  something  of  a  riddle.     We  cannot  say  that  he  | 

v.as   altogether  a  bad  man,  or  altogether  without  the  ! 


272  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

fear  of  God.    Though  David  bitterly  complained  of  him 
in  some  things,  he  must  have  valued  him  on  the  whole, 
for  during  the  whole  of  his  reign  Joab  had  been  his 
principal  general.     That   he  wanted  all   tenderness  of 
heart    seems    very    plain.       That    he    was    subject    to 
vehement  and  uncontrollable  impulses,  in  the  heat  of 
which  fearful  deeds  of  blood  w^ere   done  by  him,  but 
done  in  what  seemed  to  him  the  interest  of  the  pubhc, 
is  also  clear.     There  is  no  evidence  that  he  was  habitu- 
ally savage  or  grossly  selfish.     When  David  charged 
him  and  the  other  generals  to  deal  tenderly  with  the 
young  man  Absalom,  it  is  quite  possible  that  he  was 
minded  to  do  so.     But  in  the  excitement  of  the  battle, 
that    uncontrollable   impulse   seized    him  which  urged 
him  to  the  slaughter  of  Amasa  and  Abner.     The  chance 
of  executing  judgment  on  the  arch-rebel  who  had  caused 
all  this  misery,  and  been  guilty  of  crimes  never  before 
heard  of  in  Israel,  and  thus  ending  for  ever  an  insur- 
rection that  might  have  dragged  its  slow  length  along 
for  harassing  years  to   come,  was  too  much  for  him. 
"How  could  you  see  Absalom  hanging  in  an  oak  and 
not  put  an  end  to  his  mischievous  life  ?  "  he  asks  the 
man  that  tells  him  he  had  seen  him  in  that  plight.    And 
he  has  no  patience  with  the  man's  elaborate  apology. 
Seizing  three  darts,  he  rushes  to  the  place,  and  thnasts 
them  through  Absalom's  heart.     And  his  ten  armour- 
bearers  finish  the  business  with  their  swords.    We  need 
not  suppose  that  he  was  altogether  indifferent  to  the 
feelings  of  David  ;  but  he  may  have  been  seized  by  an 
overwhelming  conviction  that  Absalom's  death  was  the 
only  effectual  way  of  ending  this  most  guilty  and  per- 
nicious insurrection,  and  so  preserving  the  country  from 
ruin.    Absalom  living,  whether  banished  or  imprisoned, 
would  be  a  constant  and  feaiful  danger.    Absalom  dead, 


xviii.  i-i8.]    ABSALOM'S  DEFEAT  AND  DEATH.  273 

great  though  the  king's  distress  for  the  time  might  be, 
would  be  the  very  salvation  of  the  country.  Under  the  c 
influence  of  this  conviction  he  thrust  the  three  darts  \ 
through  his  heart,  and  he  allowed  his  attendants  to  hew  | 
that  comely  body  to  pieces,  till  the  fair  form  that  all  | 
had  admired  so  much  became  a  mere  mass  of  hacked  | 
and  bleeding  flesh.  But  whatever  may  have  been  the  ;• 
process  by  which  Joab  found  himself  constrained  to  dis-  \ 
regard  the  king's  order  respecting  Absalom,  it  is  plain  \ 
that  to  his  dying  day  David  never  forgave  him.  | 

The  mode  of  Absalom's  death,   and  also  the  mode        \ 
of  his  burial,  were  very  significant.     It  had  probably        J 
never  happened   to  any  warrior,  or  to  any  prince,   to        |' 
die  from  a  similar  cause.     And  but  for  the  vanity  that       | 
made  him  think  so  much  of  his  bodily  appearance,  and        \ 
especially  of  his  hair,  death  would  never  have  come  to        \ 
him  in  such  a  farm.     Vanity  of  one's  personal  appear-        \ 
ance  is  indeed  a  weakness  rather  than  a  crime.     It  would 
be    somewhat    hard    to    punish    it    directly,    but    it    is        ; 
just  the  right  way  of  treating  it,  to   make    it  punish 
itself,     /.nd  so  it  was  in  the  case  of  Absalom.     His       ;. 
bitterest    enemy   could    have    desired    nothing    more 
ludicrously   tragical  than  to  see  those  beautiful  locks       | 
fastening  him  as  with  a  chain  of  gold  to  the  arm  of       | 
the  scaffold,  and  leaving  him   dangUng  there  like  the       | 
most    abject    malefactor.     And  what  of    the    beautiful       I 
face  and  handsome  figure  that  often,  doubtless,  led  his       "^ 
admirers  to  pronounce   him  every  inch  a  king  ?      So       \ 
slashed  and  mutilated  under  the  swords  of  Joab's  ten       \ 
men,  that  no  one  could  have  told  that  it  w^as  Absalom 
that  lay  there.     This  was  God's  judgment  on  the  young 
man's  vanity. 

The    mode    of   his    burial    is    particularly    specified. 
''  They  took  Absalom  and  cast  him  into  a  great  pit  in      j 

VOL.  II.  iS  .1 


274  ^-^^  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

the  wood,  and  laid  a  very  great  heap  of  stones  upon  1 

him ;  and  all  Israel  fled  every  one  to  his  tent."     The  \ 

purpose   of  this    seems    to    have    been    to    show    that  : 

Absalom  was  deemed  worthy  of  the  punishment  of  the  v. 

rebellious  son,   as  appointed    by  Moses ;    and  a  more  \ 

significant  expression  of  opinion  could  not  have  been  I 

given.     The  punishment   for    the    son   who    remained  | 

incorrigibly  rebellious   was   to    be    taken   beyond    the  j 

walls  of  the  city,  and  stoned  to  death.     It  is  said  by  '; 

Jewish  writers  that  this  punishment  was  never  actually  \ 

inflicted,  but  the  mode  of  Absalom's  burial  was  fitted  | 

to  show  that  he  at  least  was  counted  as  deserving  of  it.  I 

The  ignominious  treatment  of  that  graceful  body,  which  i 

he  adorned  and  set  off  with  such  care,  did  not  cease  i 

even  after  it  was  gashed  by  the  weapons  of  the  young 
men  ;  no  place  was  found  for  it  in  the  venerable  cave 
of  Machpelah  ;  it  was  not  even  laid  in  the  family  sepul- 
chre at  Jerusalem,  but  cast  ignominiously  into  a  pit  in  | 
the  wood ;  it  was  bruised  and  pounded  by  stones,  and             4 
left  to  rot  there,  like  the  memory  of  its  possessor,  and  j 
entail  eternal  infamy  on  the  place.     What  a  lesson  to  1 
all   who   disown    the   authority  of  parents !     What   a  I 
warning  to  all  who  cast  away  the  cords  of  self-restraint! 
It  is  said  by  Jewish  writers  that  every  by-passer  was             '^ 
accustomed  to  throw  a  stone  on  the  heap  that  covered  | 
the  remains  of  Absalom,  and   as  he  threw  it  to  say,              1 
"Cursed  be  the  memory  of  rebellious   Absalom  ;  and 
cursed  for  ever  be  all  wicked  children  that  rise  up  in 
rebellion  against  their  parents  !  " 

And  here  it  may  be  well  to  say  a  word  to  children. 
You  all  see  the  lesson  that  is  taught  by  the  doom  of  \ 

Absalom,  and  you  all  feel  that  in  that  doom,  terrible 
though  it  was,  he  just  reaped  what  he  had  sowed. 
You  see  the  seed  of  his  offence,  disobedience  to  parents, 


i 
xviii.  1-18.]  ABSALOM'S  DEFEAT  AND   DEATH.  275  k 

bringing  forth  the  most  hideous  fruit,  and  receiving 
in  God's  providence  a  most  frightful  punishment.     You  ; 

see  it  without  excuse  and  without  palhation  ;  for  David  fr 

had  been  a  kind  father,  and  had  treated  Absalom  better  | 

than  he  deserved.     Mark,  then,   that  this  is  the  final  | 

fruit  of  that  spirit  of  disobedience  to    parents    which  : 

often  begins  with  very  little  offences.  These  little 
offences  are  big  enough  to  show  that  you  prefer  your  ; 

own  will  to  the  will  of  your  parents.      If  you  had  a  just  1 

and  true  respect  for  their  authority,  you  would  guard  ! 

against   little    transgressions — you    would    make    con-  [ 

science  of  obeying  in  all  things  great  and  small. 
Then  remember  that  every  evil  habit  must  have  a 
beginning,  and  very  often  it  is  a  small  beginning.  By 
imperceptible   stages    it   may  grow   and   grow,  till   it  | 

becomes  a  hideous  vice,  like  this  rebellion  of  Absalom.  | 

Nip  it  in  the  bud;  if  you  don't,  who  can  tell  whether  \ 

it    may  not  grow    to  something    terrible,  and    at    last  ; 

brand  you  with  the  brand  of  Absalom  ?  | 

If  this    be    the    lesson  to    children   from   the    doom  \ 

of  Absalom,  the  lesson  to  parents  is  not  less  manifest  ( 

from    the  case  of   David.     The    early    battle    between  \ 

the  child's  will  and  the  parent's  is  often  very  difficult  [; 

and  trying;  but  God  is  on  the  parent's  side,  and  will  | 

give  him  the  victory  if  he  seeks  it  aright.     It  certainly  | 

needs  great  vigilance,  wisdom,  patience,  firmness,  and  I 

affection.      If  you    are   careless    and    unwatchful,    the  I 

child's  will  will  speedily  assert  itself     If  you  are  foohsh,  f 

and   carry  discipline  too  far,  if  you  thwart    the  child  f 

at   every  point,   instead  of  insisting  on  one  thing,  or  I 

perhaps  a  few  things,  at   a  time,  you  will  weary  him  | 

and  weary  yourself  v/ithout  success.     If  you  are  fitful,  ! 

insisting  at  one  time  and  taking  no  heed  at  another,  ; 

you  will  convey  the  impression  of  a  very  elastic  law,  | 


276  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

not  entitled  to  much  respect.  If  you  lose  your  temper, 
and  speak  unadvisedly,  instead  of  mildly  and  lovingly, 
you  will  most  effectually  set  the  child's  temper  up 
against  the  very  thing  you  wish  him  to  do.  If  you 
forget  that  you  are  not  independent  agents,  but  have 
got  the  care  of  your  beloved  child  from  God,  and 
ought  to  bring  him  up  as  in  God's  stead,  and  in 
the  most  humble  and  careful  dependence  on  God's 
grace,  you  may  look  for  blunder  upon  blunder  in  sad 
succession,  with  results  in  the  end  that  will  greatly 
disappoint  you.  How  close  every  Christian  needs  to 
lie  to  God  in  the  exercise  of  this  sacred  trust  !  And 
how  much,  when  conscious  of  weakness  and  fearing 
the  consequences,  ought  he  to  prize  the  promise — 
"  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee  1 " 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

DAVID'S   GRIEF  FOR   ABSALOM, 

2  Samuel  xviii.  19-33  5  ^i^-  i-4' 

^'  XT  EXT  to  the  calamity  of  losing  a  battle,"  a  great  | 

i  Nl    general    used    to    say,   '^  is  that    of  gaining    a  t 

victory."    The  battle  in  the  wood  of  Ephraim  left  twenty  | 

thousand  of  King  David's  subjects  dead  or  dying  on  \ 

the  field.     It  is  remarkable  how  little  is  made  of  this  | 

dismal  fact.     Men's   lives    count  for  little   in    time   of  \ 

war,  and  death,   even  with  its  worst   horrors,   is  just  [ 

the  common  fate  of  warriors.     Yet  surely  David  and  | 

his   friends  could  not   think  lightly  of  a  calamity  that  \ 

cut  down  more  of  the  sons  of  Israel  than  any  battle  1 

since  the  fatal  day  of  Mount  Gilboa.     Nor  could  they  \ 

form  a  light  estimate  of  the  guilt  of  the  man  whose  % 

inordinate  vanity  and  ambition  had  cost  the  nation  such  | 

a  fearful  loss.  | 

But  all  thoughts  of  this  kind  were  for  the  moment  | 

brushed  aside  by  the  crowning  fact  that  Absalom  himself  | 

was  dead.     And  this  fact,  as  well  as  the  tidings  of  the  | 

victory,  must  at  once  be  carried  to  David.     Mahanaim,  \ 

where  David  was,  was  probably  but  a  little  distance  } 

from  the  field  of  battle.     A  friend  offered  to  Joab  to  1 
carry  the  news — Ahimaaz,  the  son  of  Zadok  the  priest^^ 
He  had  formerly  been  engaged  in  the  same  way,  for  he 

was  one  of  those  that  had  brought  word  to  David  of  the  j 


278  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  \\ 

result  of  Absalom's  council,  and  of  other  things  that 
were  going  on  in  Jerusalem.  But  Joab  did  not  wish 
that  Ahimaaz  should  be  the  bearer  of  the  news.     He  | 

would  not  deprive  him  of  the  character  of  kirg's 
messenger,  but  he  would  employ  him  as  such  another 
time.  Meanwhile  the  matter  was  entrusted  to  another 
man,  called  in  the  Authorized  Version  Cushi,  but  in  the 
Revised  Version  the  Cushite.  Whoever  this  may  have 
been,  he  was  a  simple  official,  not  like  Ahimaaz,  a 
personal  friend  of  David.  And  this  seems  to  have 
been  Joab's  reason  for  employing  him.  It  is  evident 
that  physically  he  was  not  better  adapted  to  the  task 
than  Ahimaaz,  for  when  the  latter  at  last  got  leave  to 
go  he  overran  the  Cushite.  But  Joab  appears  to  have 
felt  that  it  would  be  better  that  David  should  receive 
his  first  news  from  a  mere  official  than  from  a  personal 
friend.  The  personal  friend  would  be  likely  to  entr 
into  details  that  the  other  would  not  give.  It  is  cle 
that  Joab  was  ill  at  ease  in  reference  to  his  own  shai 
in  the  death  of  Absalom.  He  would  fain  keep  that 
back  from  David,  at  least  for  a  time ;  it  would  be 
enough  for  him  at  the  first  to  know  that  the  battle  had 
been  gained,  and  that  Absalom  was  dead.  s 

But  Ahimaaz  was  persistent,  and  after  the  Cushite  i 

had    been   despatched   he   carried   his  point,  and  was  | 

allowed  to  go.     Very  graphic  is  the  description  of  the  "I, 

running    of   the    two   men    and    of   their    arrival    at  | 

Mahanaim.     The  king  had  taken  his  place  at  the  gate  ^ 

of  the  city,  and  stationed  a  watchman  on  the  wall  above  j 

to  look  out  eagerly  lest  any  one  should  come  bringing  -j 

news  of  the  battle.     In  those  primitive  times  there  was  | 

no  more  rapid  way  of  despatching  important  news  than  -.' 

by  a  swift  well-trained  runner  on  foot.     In  the  clear  I 

atmosphere  of   the  East  first  one  man,  then  another,  .' 


xviii.,xix.]       DAVID'S  GRIEF  FOR  ABSALOM.                   279  •' 

was  seen  running   alone.     By-and-bye,  the  watchman  \ 

surmised  that  the  foremost  of  the  two  was  Ahimaaz  ;  | 

and  when  the  kincr  heard  it,  remembering  his  former  | 

message,  he  concluded  that  such  a  man  must  be  the  ,| 

bearer  of  good   tidings.     As  soon  as  he  came  within  I 

hearing  of  the   king,   he   shouted  out,   "All   is  well."  | 

Comins:  close,  he  fell  on  his  face  and  blessed  God  for  \ 

delivering  the  rebels  into  David's  hands.     Before  thank-  \ 

ing  him  or  thanking  God,  the  king  showed  what  was  \ 

uppermost  in  his  heart  by  asking,  "  Is  the  young  man  I 

Absalom    safe  ? "      And    here    the   moral    courage    of  [ 
Ahimaaz  failed  him.,  and  he  gave  an  evasive  answer : 

''When    Joab    sent    the    king's    servant,    and   me    thy  ;• 

servant,  I  saw  a  great    tumult,   but  I  knew  not  what  | 

it  was."     When  he  heard  this  the  king  bade  him  stand  | 

•side,  till  he  should  hear  what  the  other  messenger  had  ! 
say.     And    the    official  messenger  was  more  frank 

tn  the  personal  friend.     For  when  the  king  repeated  - 

.le    question   about   Absalom,  the  answer  was,   "  The  ; 

enemies  of  my  lord  the  king,  and  all  that  rise  against  ' 

thee  to  do  thee  hurt,  be  as  that  young  man  is."     The  \ 

answer  was    couched    in  skilful  words.     It    suggested  [ 

the  enormity  of  Absalom's  guilt,  and  of  the  danger  to  \ 

the  king  and  the  state  which  he  had  plotted,  and  the  ^; 

magnitude  of  the  deliverance,  seeing  that  he  was  nov/  % 

beyond  the  power  of  doing  further  evil.  I 

But    such  soothing  expressions  were  lost  upon  the  | 

king.     The  worst   fears  of  his   heart   were  realized-  | 

Absalom  was  dead.     Gone  from  earth  for  ever,  beyond  f 

reach  of  the  yearnings  of  his  heart ;  gone  to  answer  for  ) 
crimes  that  were  revolting  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man. 
"  The  king  was  much  moved  ;  and  he  went  up  to  the 

chamber  over  the  gate  and  wept ;  and  as  he  went,  thus  i 

he  said,  O  my  son  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  Absalom  I  ! 


28o  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL,  je 

Would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,   O  Absalom,  my  son,  i 

my  son  !  "  i 

He  had  been  a  man  of  war,  a  man  of  the  sword  ;  he  j 

had  been  familiar  with  death,  and  had  seen  it  once  and  ^ 

again  in  his  own  family ;  but  the  tidings  of  Absalom's  \ 

death  fell  upon  him  with  all  the  force  of  a  first  bereave-  •'! 

ment.     Not   more   piercing  is   the  wail  of  the  young  ! 

widow    when    suddenly  the   corpse   of  her  beloved  is  J 

borne  into  the  house,  not  more    overwhelming  is  her  \ 

sensation,  as  if  the  solid  earth  were  giving  way  beneath  } 

her,  than  the  emotion  that  now  prostrated  King  David.  | 

Grief  for  the  dead  is  always  sacred ;    and   however  i 

unworthy  we  may  regard  the  object  of  it,  we  cannot  i 

but  respect  it  in  King  David.     Viewed  simply   as   an  j 

expression    of  his    unquenched    affection    for  his    son,  '; 

and    separated    from    its    bearing   on    the   interests   of  I 

the  kingdom,  and  from  the  air  of  repining  it   seemed  '\ 

to  carry  against  the  dispensation  of  God,  it  showed  a  j 

marvellously  tender  and  forgiving  heart.  In  the  midst 
of  an  odious  and  disgusting  rebellion,  and  with  the 
one  object  of  seeking  out  his  father  and  putting  him 
to  death,  the  heartless   youth   had  been  arrested   and  ; 

had  met  his  deserved  fate.  Yet  so  far  from  showing 
satisfaction  that  the  arm  that  had  been  raised  to  crush  ^ 

him  was   laid   low   in   death,   David  could   express  no  ^| 

feelings  but  those  of  love  and  longing.     Was  it  not  a  I 

very  wonderful  love,  coming  very  near  to  the  feeling  l 

of  Him  who  prayed,  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  \ 

know  not  what   they  do,"  like  that   '^  love   Divine,  all  | 

love  excelling,"  that  follows  the  sinner  through  all  his  'j 

wanderings,  and  clings  to  him  amid  all  his  rebellions ;  | 

the  love  of  Him  that  not  merely  wished  in  a  moment  of 
excitement  that  He  could  die  for  His  guilty  children, 
but  did  die  for  them,  and  in  dying  bore  their  guilt  and  S 


xviii.,xix.]       DAVID'S   GRIEF  FOR   ABSALOM.                   281  > 

took  it  away,  and  of  which  the  brief  but  matchless  re-  I 

cord  is  that  "  having  once  loved  His  own  that  were  with  | 

Him  in  the  world,  He  loved  them  even  unto  the  end  ?  "  — % 

The   elements   of   David's   intense    agony,   when  he  | 
heard  of  Absalom's  death,  were  mainly  three.     In  the  | 
first  place,  there  was  the  loss  of  his  son,  of  whom  he  | 
could  say  that,  with  all  his  faults,  he  loved  him  still.  \ 
A  dear  object  had  been   plucked  from  his  heart,  and 
left   it    sick,  vacant,   desolate.      A   face    he    had    often 
gazed  on  with  dehght  lay  cold  in  death.     He  had  not 
been  a  good  son,  he  had  been  very  wicked  ;  but  affection 
has  always  its  visions  of  a  better  future,  and  is  ready 
to  forgive  unto  seventy  times  seven.     And  then  death 
is  so  dreadful  when  it  fastens  on  the  young.     It  seems  | 
so   cruel  to   fell  to  the  ground  a    bright  young  form  ;  J 
to  extinguish  by  one  blow  his  every  joy,  every  hope,  t 
every   dream  ;    to  reduce   him  to    nothingness,   so   far  I 
as   this   life   is  concerned.      An    infinite    pathos,   in    a 
father's   experience,  surrounds   a  young    man's    death.  '-^ 
The  regret,  the  longing,  the  conflict  with  the  inevitable,  •■ 
seem  to  drain  him  of  all  energy,  and  leave  him  help- 
less in  his  sorrow.  [; 

Secondly,  there  was  the  terrible  fact  that  Absalom  | 

had  died    in    rebellion,   without   expressing    one  word  | 

of  regret,  without  one  request  for  forgiveness,  without  | 

one  act  or  word  that  it  would  be  pleasant  to  recall  in  | 

time  to  come,  as  a  foil  to  the  bitterness  caused  by  his  I 

unnatural  rebellion.     Oh,  if  he  had  had  but  an  hour  to  f 

think  of  his  position,  to  realise  the  lesson  of  his  defeat,  \ 

to  ask  his  father's  forgiveness,  to  curse  the  infatuation  [ 

of  the  last  few  years  !      How  would  one   such  word  1 
have  softened  the  sting  of  his  rebellion  in  his  father's 
breast  1     What  a  change  it  would  have  given  to  the 
aspect  of  his  evil  Hfe  !     But  not  even  the  faint  vestige 

I 

I 

f 


282  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

of  such  a  thing  was  ever  shown ;  the  unmitigated  glare 
of  that  evil  life  must  haunt  his  father  evermore  ! 

Thirdly,  there  was  the  fact  that  in  this  rebellious 
condition  he  had  passed  to  the  judgment  of  God. 
What  hope  could  there  be  for  such  a  man,  living  and 
dying  as  he  had  done  ?  Where  could  he  be  now  ? 
Was  not  ^'  the  great  pit  in  the  wood,"  into  which  his 
unhonoured  carcase  had  been  flung,  a  type  of  another 
pit,  the  receptacle  of  his  soul  ?  What  agony  to  the 
Christian  heart  is  like  that  of  thinking  of  the  misery 
of  dear  ones  who  have  died  impenitent  and  un- 
pardoned ? 

To  these  and  similar  elements  of  grief  David  appears 
to  have  abandoned  himself  without  a  struggle.  But 
was  this  right  ?  Ought  he  not  to  have  made  some 
acknowledgment  of  the  Divine  hand  in  his  trial,  as  he 
did  when  Bathsheba's  child  died  ?  Ought  he  not  to  have 
acted  as  he  did  on  another  occasion,  when  he  said,  '^  I 
was  dumb  with  silence,  I  opened  not  my  mouth,  be- 
cause Thou  didst  it  "  ?  We  have  seen  that  in  domestic 
matters  he  was  not  accustomed  to  plaCe  himself  so 
thoroughly  under  the  control  of  the  Divine  will  as  in 
the  more  public  business  of  his  life  ;  and  now  we  see 
that,  when  his  parental  feelings  are  crushed,  he  is  left 
without  the  steadying  influence  of  submission  to  the 
will  of  God.  And  in  the  agony  of  his  private  grief  he 
forgets  the  public  welfare  of  the  nation.  Noble  and 
generous  though  the  wish  be,  "Would  God  I  had  died 
for  thee,"  it  was  on  public  grounds  out  of  the  question. 
Let  us  imagine  for  one  moment  the  wish  realized. 
David  has  fallen  and  Absalom  survives.  What  sort 
of  kingdom  would  it  have  been  ?  What  would  have 
been  the  fate  of  the  gallant  men  who  had  defended 
David  ?     What  would  have  been  the  condition  of  God's 


xviii.,  xix.]       DAVID'S  GRIEF  FOR  ABSALOM.  2S3 


sei-vants  throughout  the  kingdom  ?     What  would  have  : 

been  the  influence  of  so  godless  a  monarch  upon  the  ' 

interests  of  truth  and  the  cause  of  God  ?  It  was  a 
rash  and  unadvised  utterance  of  affection.  But  for  the 
rough  faithfulness  of  Joab,  the  consequences  would  have 
been   disastrous.     ^'  The   victory  that   day  was  turned  i 

into  mourning,  for  the  people  heard  say  that  day  how  \ 

the   king  was  grieved  for   his  son."     Every  one   was  i 

discouraged.       The    man   for    whom    they  had    risked  j 

their  lives  had  not  a  word  of  thanks  to  any  of  them,  i 

and  could  think  of  no  one  but  that  vi^e  son  of  his,  who  I 

was  now  dead.  In  the  evening  Joab  came  to  him,  and 
in  his  blunt  way  swore  to  him  that  if  he  v/as  not  more  ; 

affable  to    the  people  they  would   not  remain  a  night  ^ 

longer  in  his  service.  Roused  by  the  reproaches  and 
threatenings  of  his  general,  the  king  did  now  present  ! 

himself  among  them.     The  people  responded  and  came  • 

before   him,  and  the    eff3rt  he  made  to  show  himself  \ 

agreeable  kept  them  to  their  allegiance,  and  led  on  to  j 

the  steps  for  his  restoration  that  soon  took  place.  \ 

But   it   must    have    been    an    effort    to    abstract  his        ' 
attention  from   Absalom,    and   fix    it    on    the    brighter  : 

results  of  the  battle.     And  not  only  that  night,  in  the  \ 

silence   of  his   chamber,   but    for    many   a    night,    and  \ 

perhaps  many  a   day,  during  the  rest  of  his  life,  the  ( 

thought    of   that   battle   and    its   crowning  catastrophe 
must  have  haunted  David   like  an  ugly  dream.      We         .        ■ 
seem  to  see  him  in  some  still  hour  of  reverie  recalling        |        \ 
early  days  ; — happy   scenes   rise  around    him  ;    lovely  \ 

children  gambol  at  his  side  ;  he  hears  again  the  merry  i 

laugh  of  little  Tamar,  and  smiles  as  he  recalls  some 
childish  saying  of  Absalom  ;  he  is  beginning,  as  of  old, 
to  forecast  the  future  and  shape  out  for  them  careers  ! 

of  honour  and    happiness ;    when,   horror  of  horrors  !  | 


284  THE  SECOND  BOOK   OF  SAMUEL. 

the  spell  breaks ;  the  bright  vision  gives  way  to 
dismal  realities — Tamar's  dishonour,  Amnon's  murder, 
Absalom's  insurrection,  and,  last  not  least,  Absalom's 
death,  glare  in  the  field  of  memory  !  Who  will  venture 
to  say  that  David  did  not  smart  for  his  sins  ?  Who 
that  reflects  would  be  willing  to  take  the  cup  of  sinful 
indulgence  from  his  hands,  sweet  though  it  was  in  his 
mouth,  when  he  sees  it  so  bitter  in  the  belly  ? 

Two  remarks  may  appropriately  conclude  this 
chapter,  one  with  reference  to  grief  from  bereavements 
in  general,  the  other  with  reference  to  the  grief  that 
may  arise  to  Christians  in  connection  with  the  spiritual 
condition  of  departed  children. 

I,  With  reference  to  grief  from  bereavements  in 
general,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  they  will  prove  either 
a  blessing  or  an  evil  according  to  the  use  to  which  they 
are  turned.  All  grief  in  itself  is  a  V\^eakening  thing — 
w^eakening  both  to  the  body  and  the  mind,  and  it  were 
a  great  error  to  suppose  that  it  must  do  good  in  the  end. 
There  are  some  who  seem  to  think  that  to  resign  them- 
selves to  overwhelming  grief  is  a  token  of  regard  to  the 
memory  of  the  departed,  and  they  take  no  pains  to 
counteract  the  depressing  influence.  It  is  a  painful  thing 
to  say,  yet  it  is  true,  that  a  long-continued  manifestation 
of  overwhelming  grief,  instead  of  exciting  sympathy,  is 
more  apt  to  cause  annoyance.  Not  only  does  it  depress 
the  mourner  himself,  and  unfit  him  for  his  duties  to  the 
living,  but  it  depresses  those  that  come  in  contact  with 
him,  and  makes  them  think  of  him  with  a  measure  of 
impatience.  And  this  suggests  another  remark.  It  is 
not  right  to  obtrude  our  grief  overmuch  on  others, 
especially  if  we  are  in  a  public  position.  Let  us  take 
example  in  this  respect  from  our  blessed  Lord.  W^as 
any  sorrow  like  unto  His  sorrow  ?     Yet  how  little  did 


XVIU.,  XIX, 


]        DAVIDS   GRIEF  FOR   ABSALOM.  285 


lie  obtrude  it  even  on  the  notice  of  His  disciples!  It 
was  towards  the  end  of  His  ministry  before  He  even 
began  to  tell  them  of  the  dark  scenes  through  which  He 
was  to  pass ;  and  even  when  He  did  tell  them  how  He 
was  to  be  betrayed  and  crucified,  it  was  not  to  court 
their  sympathy,  but  to  prepare  them  for  their  part 
of  the  trial.  And  when  the  overwhelming  agony  of 
Gethsemane  drew  on,  it  was  only  three  of  the  twelve 
that  were  permitted  to  be  with  Him.  All  such  con- 
siderations show  that  it  is  a  more  Christian  thing  to 
conceal  our  griefs  than  to  make  others  uncomfortable 
by  obtruding  them  upon  their  notice.  David  was  on 
the  very  eve  of  losing  the  affections  of  those  who  had 
risked  everything  for  him,  by  abandoning  himself  to 
anguish  for  his  private  loss,  and  letting  his  distress  for 
the  dead  interfere  with  his  duty  to  the  living. 

And  how  many  things  are  there  to  a  Christian  mind 
fitted  to  abate  the  first  sharpness  even  of  a  great 
bereavement.  Is  it  not  the  doing  of  a  Father,  infinitely 
kind  ?  Is  it  not  the  doing  of  Him  "  who  spared  not 
His  own  Son,  but  delivered  Him  up  for  us  all "  ?  You 
say  you  can  see  no  light  through  it, — it  is  dark,  all  dark, 
fearfully  dark.  Then  you  ought  to  fall  back  on  the 
inscrutability  of  God.  Hear  Him  saying,  "  What  I  do, 
thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter. ' 
Resign  yourself  patiently  to  His  hands,  till  He  make 
the  needed  revelation,  and  rest  assured  that  when  it  is 
made  it  will  be  worthy  of  God.  ''  Ye  have  heard  of 
the  patience  of  Job,  and  have  seen  the  end  of  the  Lord, 
that  the  Lord  is  very  pitiful  and  of  tender  mercy." 
Meanwhile,  be  impressed  with  the  vanity  of  this  life, 
and  the  infinite  need  of  a  higher  portion.  ^'  Set  your 
affection  on  things  above,  and  not  on  the  things  on  the 
earth.     For  ye  are  dead,  and  your  life  is  hid  with  Christ 


286  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

in  God.     When  Christ,  who  is  your  Life,  shall  appear, 
then  shall  ye  also  appear  with  Him  in  glory." 

27  The  other  remark  that  fails  to  be  made  here  con- 
cerns the  grief  that  may  arise  to  Christians  in  connec- 
tion with  the  spiritual  condition  of  departed  children. 

When  the  parent  is  either  in  doubt  as  to  the  happi- 
ness of  a  beloved  one,  or  has  cause  to  apprehend  that 
the  portion  of  that  child  is  with  the  unbelievers,  the 
pang  which  he  experiences  is  one  of  the  most  acute 
which  the  human  heart  can  know.  Now  here  is  a 
species  of  suffering  which,  if  not  peculiar  to  believers, 
falls  on  them  far  the  most  heavily,  and  is,  in  many 
cases,  a  haunting  spectre  of  misery.  The  question 
naturally  arises.  Is  it  not  strange  that  their  very 
beliefs,  as  Christians,  subject  them  to  such  acute  suffer- 
ings ?  If  one  were  a  careless,  unbelieving  man,  and 
one's  child  died  without  evidence  of  grace,  one  would 
probably  think  nothing  of  it,  because  the  things  that 
are  unseen  and  eternal  are  never  in  one's  thoughts. 
But  just  because  one  believes  the  testimony  of  God 
on  this  great  subject,  one  becomes  liable  to  a  peculiar 
agony.     Is  this  not  strange  indeed  ? 

Yes,  there  is  a  mystery  in  it  which  we  cannot  wholly 
solve.  But  we  must  remember  that  it  is  in  thorough 
accordance  with  a  great  law  of  Providence,  the  opera- 
tion of  which,  in  other  matters,  we  cannot  overlook. 
That  law  is,  that  the  cultivation  and  refinement  of  any 
organ  or  faculty,  while  it  greatly  increases  your  capacity 
of  enjoyment,  increases  at  the  same  time  your  capacity, 
and  it  may  be  your  occasions,  of  suffering.  Let  us 
take,  for  example,  the  habit  of  cleanliness.  Where 
this  habit  prevails,  there  is  much  more  enjoyment  in 
life;  but  let  a  person  of  great  cleanliness  be  sur- 
rounded by  filth,  his  suffering  is  infinitely  greater.     Or 


xviii.,  xix.]       DAVID'S   GRIEF  FOR   ABSALOM,  287 

take  the  cultivation  of  taste,  and  let  us  say  of  musical 
taste.     It  adds  to  life  an  immense  capacity  of  enjoy- 
ment,   but    also    a    great    capacity    and    often    much 
occasion   of  suffering,   because  bad  music  or   tasteless 
music,  such  as  one  may  often  have  to  endure,  creates 
a  misery  unknown  to  the  man  of  no  musical  culture. 
To  a  man  of  classical  taste,  bad  writing  or  bad  speaking, 
such  as  is  met  with  every  day,  is  likewise  a  source  of 
irritation  and  suffering.     If  we  advance  to  a  moral  and 
spiritual  region,  we  may  see  that  the  cultivation  of  one's 
ordinary  affections,  apart  from  religion,   while  on  the 
whole  it  increases  enjoyment,  does  also  increase  sorrow. 
If  I  lived  and  felt  as  a  Stoic,   I  should  enjoy  family  life 
much  less  than  if  I  were  tender-hearted  and  affection- 
ate; but  when  I  suffered  a  family  bereavement  I  should 
suffer  much  less.     These  are  simply  illustrations  of  the 
great  law  of  Providence  that  culture,  while  it  increases 
happiness,     increases    suffering    too.       It    is    a   higher 
appHcation  of  the  same  law,  that  gracious  culture,  the 
culture  of  our  spiritual  affections  under  the  power  of  the 
Spirit  of  God,  in  increasing  our  enjoyment  does  also 
increase  our  capacity  of  suffering.     In  reference  to  that 
great  problem  of  natural  religion,  Why  should  a  God 
of  infinite  benevolence  have  created  creatures  capable 
of  suffering  ?  one  answer  that  has  often  been  given  is, 
that  if  they  had  not   been  capable  of  suffering  they 
might  not  have  been  capable   of  enjoyment.     But  in 
pursuing  these  inquiries  we  get  into  an  obscure  region, 
in  reference  to  which  it  is  surely  our  duty  patiently  to 
wait  for  that  increase  of  light  which  is  promised  to  us 
in  the  second  stage  of  our  existence. 

Yet  still  it  remains  to  be  asked,  What  comfort  can 
there  possibly  be  for  Christian  parents  in  such  a  casc 
as    David's  ?     Wliat  possible   consideration   can   ever 


288  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

reconcile  them  to  the  thought  that  their  beloved  ones 
have  gone  to  the  world  of  woe  ?  Are  not  their 
children  parts  of  themselves,  and  how  is  it  possible 
for  them  to  be  completely  saved  if  those  who  are  so 
identified  with  them  are  lost  ?  How  can  they  ever  be 
happy  in  a  future  life  if  eternally  separated  from 
those  who  were  their  nearest  and  dearest  on  earth  ? 
On  such  matters  it  has  pleased  God  to  allow  a  great 
cloud  to  rest  which  our  eyes  cannot  pierce.  We  cannot 
solve  this  problem.  We  cannot  reconcile  perfect 
personal  happiness,  even  in  heaven,  with  the  knowledge 
that  beloved  ones  are  lost.  But  God  must  have  some 
way,  worthy  of  Himself,  of  solving  the  problem.  And 
we  must  just  wait  for  His  time  of  revelation.  ''  God  is 
His  own  interpreter,  and  He  will  make  it  plain."  The 
Judge  of  all  the  earth  must  act  justlyc.  And  the  song 
which  will  express  the  deepest  feelings  of  the  redeemed, 
when  from  the  sea  of  glass,  mingled  with  fire,  they 
look  back  on  the  ways  of  Providence  toward  them,  will 
be  this :  "  Great  and  marvellous  are  Thy  works.  Lord 
God  Almighty;  just  and  true  are  all  Thy  zvays,  Thou 
King  of  saints.  Who  would  not  fear  Thee  and  glorify 
Thy  name,  for  Thou  only  art  holy  ?  " 


T 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE     RESTORATION. 

2  Samuel  xix.  5—30. 

O  rouse  one's  self  from  the  prostration  of  grief, 
and  grapple  anew  with  the  cares  of  life,  is  hard 
indeed.  Among  the  poorer  classes  of  society,  it 
is  hardly  possible  to  let  grief  have  its  swing;  amid 
suppressed  and  strugghng  emotions  the  poor  man 
must  return  to  his  daily  toil.  The  warrior,  too,  in  the 
heat  of  conflict  has  hardly  time  to  drop  a  tear  over 
the  tomb  of  his  comrade  or  his  brother.  But  where 
leisure  is  possible,  the  bereaved  heart  does  crave  a  time 
of  silence  and  solitude ;  and  it  seems  reasonable,  in 
order  that  its  fever  may  subside  a  little,  before  the 
burden  of  daily  work  is  resumed.  It  was  somewhat 
hard  upon  David,  then,  that  his  grief  could  not  get  a 
single  evening  to  flow  undisturbed.  A  rough  voice 
called  him  to  rouse  himself,  and  speak  comfortably 
to  his  people,  otherwise  they  would  disband  before 
morning,  and  all  that  he  had  gained  would  be 
lost  to  him  again.  In  the  main,  Joab  was  no  doubt 
right ;  but  in  his  manner  there  was  a  sad  lack  of 
consideration  for  the  feeHngs  of  the  king.  He  might 
have  remembered  that,  though  he  had  gained  a  battle, 
David  had  lost  a  son,  and  that,  too,  under  circumstances 
peculiarly  heart-breaking.  Faithful  in  the  main  and 
shrewd  as  Joab  was,  he  was  no  doubt  a  useful  officer ; 
VOL.  II.  IQ 


290  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

but  his  harshness  and  want  of  feehng  went  far  to 
neutralise  the  benefit  of  his  services.  It  ought  surely 
to  be  one  of  the  benefits  of  civilisation  and  culture 
that,  where  painful  duties  have  to  be  done,  they  should 
be  done  with  much  consideration  and  tenderness. 
For  the  real  business  of  life  is  not  so  much  to  get 
right  things  done  in  any  way,  as  to  diffuse  a  right  spirit 
among  men,  and  get  them  to  do  things  well.  Men  of 
enlightened  goodness  will  always  aim  at  purifying  the 
springs  of  conduct,  at  increasing  virtue,  and  deepening 
faith  and  holiness.  The  call  to  the  royal  bridegroom 
in  the  forty-fifth  Psalm  is  to  "gird  his  sword  on  his 
thigh,  and  ride  forth  prosperously,  because  of  truth,  and 
meekness,  and  righteousness.^^  To  increase  these  three 
things  is  to  increase  the  true  wealth  of  nations  and 
advance  the  true  prosperity  of  kingdoms.  In  his 
eagerness  to  get  a  certain  thing  done,  Joab  showed 
little  or  no  regard  for  those  higher  interests  to  which 
outward  acts  should  ever  be  subordinate. 

But  David  felt  the  call  of  duty — "  He  arose  and  sat  in 
the  gate.  And  they  told  unto  all  the  people  saying, 
Behold,  the  king  doth  sit  in  the  gate.  And  all  the 
people  came  before  the  king :  for  Israel  had  fled  every 
man  to  his  tent."  And  very  touching  it  must  have 
been  to  look  on  the  sad,  pale,  wasted  face  of  the  king, 
and  mark  his  humble,  chastened  bearing,  and  yet  to 
receive  from  him  words  of  winning  kindness  that 
showed  him  still  caring  for  them  and  loving  them,  as  a 
shepherd  among  his  sheep ;  in  no  wise  exasperated  by 
the  insurrection,  not  breathing  forth  threatenings  and 
slaughter  on  those  who  had  taken  part  against  him  ; 
but  concerned  as  ever  for  the  welfare  of  the  whole 
kingdom,  and  praying  for  Jerusalem,  for  his  brethren 
and  companions'  sakes,  "  Peace  be  within  thee." 


xix.  5-30.]  THE  RES  TOR  A  TION.  291 

It  was  now  open  to  him  to  follow  either  of  two 
courses :  either  to  march  to  Jerusalem  at  the  head  of 
his  victorious  army,  take  military  possession  of  the 
capital,  and  deal  with  the  remains  of  the  insurrection 
in  the  stern  fashion  common  among  kings  ;  or  to  wait 
till  he  should  be  invited  back  to  the  throne  from  which 
he  had  been  driven,  and  then  magnanimously  proclaim 
an  amnesty  to  all  the  rebels.  We  are  not  surprised 
that  he  preferred  the  latter  alternative.  It  is  more 
agreeable  to  any  man  to  be  offered  what  is  justly  due 
to  him  by  those  who  have  deprived  him  of  it  than  to 
have  to  claim  it  as  his  right.  It  was  far  more  hke  him 
to  return  in  peace  than  in  that  vengeful  spirit  that 
must  have  hecatombs  of  rebels  slain  to  satisfy  it. 
The  people  knew  that  David  was  in  no  bloodthirsty 
mood.  And  it  was  natural  for  him  to  expect  that  an 
advance  would  be  made  to  him,  after  the  frightful 
wrong  which  he  had  suffered  from  the  people.  He 
was  therefore  in  no  haste  to  leave  his  quarters  at 
Mahanaim. 

The  movement  that  he  looked  for  did  take  place,  but 
it  did   not  originate  with  those  who  might  have  been  |. 

expected  to  take  the  lead.     It  was  among  the  ten  tribes  | 

of  Israel  that  the  proposal  to  bring  him  back  was  first  | 

discussed,  and  his  own  tribe,  the  tribe  of  Judah,  held  | 

back  after  the  rest  were  astir.     He  was  much  chagrined  | 

at  this   backwardness   on  the  part  of  Judah.     It  was  \ 

hard  that  his  own  tribe  should  be  the  last  to  stir,  that  |. 

those  who  might  have  been  expected  to  head  the  move-  | 

ment  should  lag  behind.     But  in  this  David  was  only  ( 

experiencing  the  same   thing  as   the   Son  of  David  a  \ 

thousand  years  after,  when  the  people  of  Nazareth, 
His  own  city,  not  only  refused  to  listen  to  Him,  but 
were  about  to  hurl  Him  over  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  ( 


292  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

So  important,  however,  did  he  see  it  to  be  for  the  general 
welfare  that  Judah  should  share  the  movement,  that  he 
sent  Zadok  and  Abiathar  the  priests  to  stir  them  up  to 
their  duty.  He  would  not  have  taken  this  step  but  for 
his  jealousy  for  the  honour  of  Judah ;  it  was  the  fact 
that  the  movement  was  now  going  on  in  some  places 
and  not  in  all  that  induced  him  to  interfere.  He  dreaded 
disunion  in  any  case,  especially  a  disunion  between 
Judah  and  Israel.  For  the  jealousy  between  these  two 
sections  of  the  people  that  afterwards  broke  the  kingdom 
into  two  under  Jeroboam  was  now  beginning  to  show 
itself,  and,  indeed,  led  soon  after  to  the  revolt  of  Sheba. 
Another  step  was  taken  by  David,  of  very  doubtful 
expediency,  in  order  to  secure  the  more  cordial  support 
of  the  rebels.  He  superseded  Joab,  and  gave  the  com- 
mand of  his  army  to  Amasa,  who  had  been  general  of 
the  rebels.  In  more  ways  than  one  this  was  a  strong 
measure.  To  supersede  Joab  was  to  make  for  himself 
a  very  powerful  enemy,  to  rouse  a  man  whose  passions, 
when  thoroughly  excited,  were  capable  of  any  crime. 
But  on  the  other  hand,  David  could  not  but  be  highly 
offended  with  Joab  for  his  conduct  to  Absalom,  and  he 
must  have  looked  on  him  as  a  very  unsuitable  coadjutor 
to  himself  in  that  policy  of  clemency  that  he  had  deter- 
mined to  pursue.  This  was  significantly  brought  out  by 
the  appointment  of  Amasa  in  room  of  Joab.  Both  were 
David's  nephews,  and  both  were  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  ; 
but  Amasa  had  been  at  the  head  of  the  insurgents,  and 
therefore  in  close  alliance  with  the  insurgents  of  Judah. 
Most  probably  the  reason  why  the  men  of  Judah  hung 
back  was  that  they  were  afraid  lest,  if  David  were  re- 
stored to  Jerusalem,  he  would  make  an  example  of  them ; 
for  it  was  at  Hebron,  in  the  tribe  of  Judah,  that  Absalom 
had  been  first  proclaimed,  and  the  people  of  Jerusalem 


xix.5-30.]  THE  RESTORATIOiY.  293 

who  had  favoured  him  were  mostly  of  that  tribe. 
But  when  it  became  known  that  the  leader  of  the  rebel 
forces  was  not  only  not  to  be  punished,  but  actually 
promoted  to  the  highest  office  in  the  king's  service,  all 
fears  of  that  sort  were  completely  scattered.  It  was  an 
act  of  wonderful  clemency.      It  was  such  a  contrast  to  | 

the  usual  treatment  of  rebels  !  But  this  king  was  not 
like  other  kings ;  he  gave  gifts  even  to  the  rebellious. 
There  was  no  limit  to  his  generosity.  Where  sin 
abounded  grace  did  much  more  abound.  Accordingly 
a  new  sense  of  the  goodness  and  generosity  of  their 
ill-treated  but  noble  king  took  possession  of  the  people. 
''  He  bowed  the  heart  of  the  men  of  Judah,  even  as  the 
heart  of  one  man,  so  that  they  sent  this  word  unto  the 
king,  Return  thou,  and  all  thy  servants."  From  the 
extreme  of  backwardness  they  started  to  the  extreme  | 

of  forwardness  ;  the  last  to  speak  for  David,  they  were  i 

the  first  to  act  for  him  ;  and  such  was  their  vehemence 
in  his  cause   that   the  evil  of  national  disunion  which  \ 

David  dreaded  from  their  indifference  actually  sprang  | 

from  their  over-impetuous  zeal.  \ 

Thus    at  length  David  bade  farewell  to  Mahanaim,  ; 

and   began   his  journey   to    Jerusalem.     His    route    in  \ 

returning  was  the  reverse  of  that  followed  in  his  flight.  ;; 

First  he  descends  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Jordan  as  ^i 

far  as  opposite  Gilgal ;  then  he  strikes  up  through  the  J 

wilderness  the  steep  ascent  to  Jerusalem.      At  Gilgal         | 
several  events  of  interest  took  place.  | 

The  first  of  these  was  the  meeting  with  the  represen-         f 
tatives  of  Judah,  who  came  to  conduct  the  king  over  \ 

Jordan,  and  to  offer  him  their  congratulations  and  loyal         \ 
assurances.     This  step  was  taken  by  the  men  of  Judah 
alone,   and  without  consultation  or  co-operation  with         1 

the  other  tribes.     A  ferry-boat   to   convey   the  king's         | 

i 

\ 
I 

i 
I 


294  "^^^  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

household  over  the  river,  and  whatever  else  might  be 
required  to  make  the  passage  comfortable,  these  men 
of  Judah  provided.  Some  have  blamed  the  king  for 
accepting  these  attentions  from  Judah,  instead  of  invit- 
ing the  attendance  of  all  the  tribes.  But  surely,  as 
the  king  had  to  pass  the  Jordan,  and  found  the  means 
of  transit  provided  for  him,  he  was  right  to  accept 
what  was  offered.  Nevertheless,  this  act  of  Judah  and 
its  acceptance  by  David  gave  serious  offence,  as  we 
shall  presently  see,  to  the  other  tribes. 

Neither  Judah  nor  Israel  comes  out  well  in  this  little 
incident.  We  get  an  instructive  glimpse  of  the  hot- 
headedness  of  the  tribes,  and  the  childishness  of  their 
quarrels.  It  is  members  of  the  same  nation  a  thousand 
years  afterwards  that  on  the  very  eve  of  the  Crucifixion 
we  see  disputing  among  themselves  which  of  them 
should  be  the  greatest.  Men  never  appear  in  a 
dignified  attitude  when  they  are  contending  that  on 
some  occasion  or  other  they  have  been  treated  with 
too  little  consideration.  And  yet  how  many  of  the 
quarrels  of  the  world,  both  pubHc  and  private,  have 
arisen  from  this,  that  some  one  did  not  receive  the 
attention  which  he  deserved  !  Pride  lies  at  the  bottom 
of  it  all.  And  quarrels  of  this  kind  will  sometimes, 
nay  often,  be  found  even  among  men  calling  themselves 
the  followers  of  Christ.  If  the  blessed  Lord  Himself 
had  acted  on  this  principle,  what  a  different  life  He 
would  have  led  !  If  He  had  taken  offence  at  every 
want  of  etiquette,  at  every  want  of  the  honour  due  to 
the  Son  of  God,  when  would  our  redemption  ever  have 
been  accomplished  ?  Was  His  mother  treated  with 
due  consideration  when  forced  into  the  stable,  because 
there  was  no  room  for  her  in  the  inn  ?  Was  Jesus 
Himself  treated  with  due  honour  when  the  people  of 


xix.5-30.J  THE  RESTORATIO^f.  295  f 

. _ i 

Nazareth  took  Him  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  or  when  the 

foxes  had  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  had  nests,  but  5 

the  Son  of  Man  had  not  where  to  lay  His  head  ?     What  | 

if  He  had  resented  the  denial  of  Peter,  the  treachery  \ 

of  Judas,  and  the  forsaking  of  Him  by  all  the  apostles?  j- 

How  admirable  was  the  humility  that  made  Himself  of  | 

no  reputation,  so  that  when  He  was  reviled  He  reviled  \ 

not  again,  when   He  suffered  He  threatened  not,   but  | 

committed    Himself  to  Him  that  judgeth  righteously  !  | 

Yet  how  utterly  opposite  is  the  bearing  of  many,  who  i 

are  ever  ready  to  take  offence  if  anything  is  omitted  to  \ 

which  they  have  a  claim — standing  upon  their  rights,  \ 

claiming  precedence  over  this  one  and  the  other,  main-  '' 
taining  that  it  would  never  do  to  allow  themselves  to 

be  trampled  on,  thinking  it  spirited  to  contend  for  their  | 

honours !      It  is   because   this   tendency   is    so  deeply  | 

seated  in  human  nature  that  you  need  to  be  so  watch-  ^ 
ful  against  it.     It  breaks  out  at  the  most  unseasonable 
times.     Could    any    time    have  been   more    unsuitable 

for  it  on  the  part  of  the  men  of  Israel  and  Judah  than  ; 

when   the  king    was    giving   them   such   a  memorable  \ 

example   of  humilit}^,   pardoning  every  one,  great  and  \ 

small,  that  had  offended  him,  even  though  their  offence  \ 

was  as  deadly  as  could  be  conceived  ?     Or  could  any  | 

time  have  been  more  unsuitable  for  it  on  the  part  of  \ 

the  disciples  of  our  Lord  than  when  He  was  about  to  | 

surrender  His  very  life,  and  submit  to  the  most  shame-  | 
ful  form   of  death   that  could  be  devised  ?     Why  do 
men   not  see  that  the  servant   is  not   above  his  lord, 
nor  the  disciple  above  his  master  ?     "  Is  not  the  heart 

deceitful   above   all  things   and   desperately   wicked  "  ?  \ 

Let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  I 

fall.  I 

The  next  incident  at  Gilgal  was  the  cringing  entreaty         j 

\ 
% 


296  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

of  Shimei,  the  Benjamite,  to  be  pardoned  the  insult 
which  he  had  offered  the  king  when  he  left  Jerusalem. 
The  conduct  of  Shimei  had  been  such  an  outrage  on 
all  decency  that  we  wonder  how  he  could  have  dared 
to  present  himself  at  all  before  David,  even  though,  as 
a  sort  of  screen,  he  was  accompanied  by  a  thousand 
Benjamites.  His  prostration  of  himself  on  the  ground 
before  David,  his  confession  of  his  sin  and  abject  depre- 
cation of  the  king's  anger,  are  not  fitted  to  raise  him  in 
our  estimation ;  they  were  the  fruits  of  a  base  nature 
that  can  insult  the  fallen,  but  lick  the  dust  off  the  feet 
of  men  in  power.  It  was  not  till  David  had  made  it 
known  that  his  policy  was  to  be  one  of  clemency  that 
Shimei  took  this  course ;  and  even  then  he  must  have 
a  thousand  Benjamites  at  his  back  before  he  could  trust 
himself  to  his  mercy.  Abishai,  Joab's  brother,  would 
have  had  him  slain ;  but  his  proposal  was  rejected  by 
David  with  warmth  and  even  indignation.  He  knew" 
that  his  restoration  was  an  accompUshed  fact,  and  he 
would  not  spoil  a  policy  of  forgiveness  by  shedding  the 
blood  of  this  wicked  man.  Not  content  with  passing 
his  word  to  Shimei,  ''  he  sware  unto  him."  But  he 
afterwards  found  that  he  had  carried  clemency  too  far, 
and  in  his  dying  charge  to  Solomon  he  had  to  warn 
him  against  this  dangerous  enemy,  and  instruct  him  to 
bring  down  his  hoar  head  with  blood.  But  this  needs 
not  to  make  us  undervalue  the  singular  quality  of  heart 
which  led  David  to  show  such  forbearance  to  one  utterly 
unworthy.  It  was  a  strange  thing  in  the  annals  of 
Eastern  kingdoms,  where  all  rebellion  was  usually 
punished  with  the  most  fearful  severity.  It  brings  to 
mind  the  gentle  clemency  of  the  great  Son  of  David 
in  His  deahngs,  a  thousand  years  after,  with  another 
Benjamite,  as  he  v/as  travelling,  on  that  very  route,  on 


xix.5-3o.]  THE  RESTORATION.  297 


the  way  to  Damascus^  breathing  out  threatenings  and 

slaughter  against  His  disciples.     Was  there  ever  such  | 

clemency  as  that  which  met  the  persecutor  with  the  | 

words,   Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest   thou  Me  ?     Only  | 

in   this  case  the  clemency  accomplished   its  object ;  in  \ 

Shimei's  case  it  did  not.     In  the  one  case  the  persecutor  | 

became  the  chief  of  Apostles  ;  in  the  other   he  acted  | 

more  like  the  evil  spirit  in  the  parable,  whose  last  end  \ 

was  worse  than  the  first.  | 
The  next  incident  in  the  king's  return  was  his  meet-      '    j 

ing  with  Mephibosheth.     He  came  down  to  meet  the  \ 

king,  "  and  had  neither  dressed  his  feet,  nor  trimmed  [ 

his  beard,  nor  washed  his  clothes  from  the  day  the  king  | 

departed  unto  the  day  when  he  came  again  in  peace."  | 

Naturally,  the  king's  first  question  was  an  inquiry  why  \ 

he    had    not    left    Jerusalem  with    him.     And    Mephi-  | 

bosheth's  reply  was  simply,  that  he  had  wished  to  do  \ 

so,  but,  owing  to  his  lameness,  had  not  been  able.    And,  " 

moreover,  Ziba   had  slandered  him  to   the  king  when  \ 

he  said  that  Mephibosheth  hoped  to  receive  back  the  \ 

kingdom  of  his  grandfather.     The  words  of  this  poor  \ 

man  had  all  the  appearance  of  an  honest  narrative.     The  ■ 

ass  which  he  intended  to  saddle  for  his  own  use  was  ■ 

probably  one  of  those  which  Ziba  took  away  to  present  ;; 
to  David,  so   that   Mephibosheth   was   left   helpless  in 

Jerusalem.     If  the    narrative  commends    itself   by   its  -J 

transparent    truthfulness,    it    shows    also    how    utterly  ■• 

improbable  was  the  story  of  Ziba,  that  he  had  expecta-  \ 

tions  of  being  made  king.     For  he  seems  to  have  been  \ 

as  feeble   in    mind    as    he  was  frail    in    body,  and  he  \ 

undoubtedly   carried    his    compliments   to    David    to   a  [ 

ridiculous  pitch  when  he  said,  ''  All  my  father's  house  j 

were  but  dead  men    before  my  lord  the  king."     Was  i 

that  a  fit  way  to  speak  of  his  father  Jonathan  ?  [ 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


We  cannot  greatly  admire  one  who  would  depre- 
ciate his  family  to  such  a  degree  because  he  desired 
to  obtain  David's  favour.  And  for  some  reason  David 
was  somewhat  sharp  to  him.  No  man  is  perfect,  and 
we  cannot  but  wonder  that  the  king  who  was  so  gentle 
to  Shimei  should  have  been  so  sharp  to  Mephibosheth. 
"Why  speakest  thou  any  more  of  thy  matters?  1 
have  said,  Thou  and  Ziba  divide  the  land."  David 
appears  to  have  been  irritated  at  discovering  his  mis- 
take in  believing  Ziba,  and  hastily  transferring  Mephi- 
bosheth's  property  to  him.  Nothing  is  more  common 
than  such  irritation,  when  men  discover  that  through 
false  information  they  have  made  a  blunder,  and  gone 
into  some  arrangement  that  must  be  undone.  But 
why  did  not  the  king  restore  all  his  property  to 
Mephibosheth  ?  Why  say  that  he  and  Ziba  were  to 
divide  it  ?  Some  have  supposed  (as  we  remarked 
before)  that  this  meant  simply  that  the  old  arrange- 
ment was  to  be  continued — Ziba  to  till  the  ground, 
and  Mephibosheth  to  receive  as  his  share  half  the 
produce.  But  in  that  case  Mephibosheth  would  not 
have  added,  ^'Yea,  let  him  take  all,  forasmuch  as  my 
lord  the  king  is  come  again  in  peace  unto  his  own 
house."  Our  verdict  would  have  been  the  very  oppo- 
site,— Let  Mephibosheth  take  all.  But  David  was  in 
a  difficulty.  The  temper  of  the  Benjamites  was  very 
irritable;  they  had  never  been  very  cordial  to  David, 
and  Ziba  was  an  important  man  among  them.  There 
he  was,  with  his  fifteen  sons  and  twenty  servants,  a 
man  not  to  be  hastily  set  aside.  For  once  the  king 
appeared  to  prefer  the  rule  of  expediency  to  that  of 
justice.  To  make  some  amends  for  his  wrong  to 
Mephibosheth,  and  at  the  same  tim.e  not  to  turn  Ziba 
into  a  foe,  he  resorted  to  this  rough-and-ready  method. 


xix.5-3o.]  THE   RESTORATION,  299 

of  dividing  the  land  between  them.  But  surely  it  was 
an  unworthy  arrangement.  Mephibosheth  had  been 
loyal,  and  should  never  have  lost  his  land.  He  had 
been  slandered  by  Ziba,  and  therefore  deserved  some 
solace  for  his  wrong.  David  restores  but  half  his  land, 
and  has  no  soothing  word  for  the  wrong  he  has  done 
him.  Strange  that  when  so  keenly  sensible  of  the 
wrong  done  to  himself  when  he  lost  his  kingdom  un- 
righteously, he  should  not  have  seen  the  wrong  he 
had  done  to  Mephibosheth.  And  strange  that  when 
his  whole  kingdom  had  been  restored  to  himself,  he 
should  have  given  back  but  half  to  Jonathan's  son. 

The  incident  connected  with  the  meeting  with  Bar- 
zillai  we  reserve  for  separate  consideration. 

Amid  the  greatest  possible  diversity  of  circumstance,  | 

we  are  constantly  finding  parallels  in  the  life  of  David 
to  that  of  Him  who  was  his  Son  according  to  the  flesh. 
Our  Lord  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  ever  been  driven 
from  His  kingdom.  The  hosannahs  of  to-day  were 
indeed  very  speedily  exchanged  into  the  ''Away  with  \ 

Him  !  away  with  Him  !     Crucify  Him  !  crucify  Him  ! "  •; 

of  to-morrow.     But  what  we  may  remark  of  our  Lord  is  5 

rather  that  He  has  been  kept  out  of  His  kingdom  than  ^ 

driven  from  it.    He  who  came  to  redeem  the  world,  and  S 

of  whom  the  Father  said,  "  Yet  have  I  set  My  King  upon  \ 

My  holy  hill  of  Zion,"  has  never  been  suffered  to  exercise  S 

His  sovereignty,  at  least  in  a  conspicuous  manner  and  | 

on  a  universal  scale.      Here  is  a  truth  that  ought  to  be  | 

a  constant  source  of  humiliation  and  sorrow  to  every  \ 

Christian.     Are  you   to    be   content   that   the  rightful  \ 

Sovereign  should  be  kept  in  the  background,  and  the  \ 

great  ruling  forces  of  the  world  should  be  selfishness,  j 

and  mammon,  and  pleasure,  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  j 

tKe  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life  ?     Why  speak  { 


3O0  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

ye  not  of  bringing  the  King  back  to  His  house  ?  You 
say  you  can  do  so  Uttle.  But  every  subject  of  King 
David  might  have  said  the  same.  The  question  is, 
not  whether  you  are  doing  much  or  little,  but  whether 
you  are  doing  what  you  can.  Is  the  exaltation  of 
Jesus  Christ  to  the  supreme  rule  of  the  world  an  object 
dear  to  you  ?  Is  it  matter  of  humiliation  and  concern 
to  you  that  He  does  not  occupy  that  place  ?  Do  you 
humbly  try  to  give  it  to  Him  in  your  own  heart  and 
life  ?  Do  you  try  to  give  it  to  Him  in  the  Church, 
in  the  State,  in  the  world  ?  The  supremacy  of  Jesus 
Christ  must  be  the  great  rallying  cry  of  the  members 
of  the  Christian  Church,  whatever  their  denomination. 
It  is  a  point  on  which  surely  all  ought  to  be  agreed, 
and  agreement  there  might  bring  about  agreement  in 
other  things.  Let  us  give  our  minds  and  hearts  to 
realise  in  our  spheres  that  glorious  plan  of  which  we 
read  in  the  first  chapter  of  Ephesians  :  "That,  in  the 
dispensation  of  the  fulness  of  time,  God  might  gather 
together  in  one  all  things  in  Christ,  both  which  are  in 
heaven,  and  which  are  on  earth,  even  in  Him,  in  whom 
also  we  have  obtained  an  inheritance,  being  predes- 
tinated according  to  the  purpose  of  Him  who  worketh 
all  things  according  to  the  counsel  of  His  own  will, 
that  we  should  be  to  the  praise  of  His  glory,  who  first 
trusted  in  Christ." 


CHAPTER  XXVi: 

DAVID  AND  BARZILLAI. 

2  Samuel  xix.  31 — 40.  | 

I 

IT  is  very  refreshing  to  fall  in  with  a  man  like  Bar- 

zillai   in   a  record  which  is   so  full  of  wickedness,  '\ 
and  without  many  features  of  a  redeeming  character. 

He  is  a  sample  of  humanity  at  its  best — one  of  those  \ 

men    who    diffuse    radiance    and    happiness    wherever  \ 

their  influence  extends.     Long  before  St.  Peter  wrote  : 

his    epistle,  he    had  been   taught    by  the    one    Master  ; 

to    "put    away    all     wickedness,    and    all   guile,     and  \ 

hypocrisies,  and  envies,  and  evil-speakings  ; "  and  he  \ 

had  adopted  St.  Paul's  rule  for  rich  men,   "  that  they  ; 

do    good,    that    they    be    rich    in     good     works,     that  5 

they  be  ready  to  distribute,  willing  to  communicate."  \ 

We    cannot    well    conceive    a   greater    contrast    than  ^ 

that  between  Barzillai    and  another   rich   farmer  with  \ 

whom    David    came    in    contact    at    an    earlier    period  ^ 

of    his    life — Nabal    of    Carmel  :    the    one    niggardly,  \ 

beggarly,    and    bitter,    not  able  even    to    acknowledge  \ 

an     obligation,    far    less    to    devise    anything    liberal,  \ 

adding  insult  to  injury  when  David  modestly  stated  his  \ 

claim,    humiliating    him    before    his    messengers,     and  j 

meeting  his   request  with   a  flat  refusal  of  everything  \ 

great  or  small ;    the  other  hastening   from  his  home  \ 

when  he  heard  of  David's  distress,  carrying  with  him  \ 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


whatever  he  could  give  for  the  use  of  the  king  and  his 
followers,  continuing  to  send  supplies  while  he  was  at 
Mahanaim,  and  now  returning  to  meet  him  on  his  way 
to  Jerusalem,  conduct  him  over  Jordan,  and  show  his 
loyalty  and  goodwill  in  every  available  way.  While 
we  grieve  that  there  are  still  so  many  Nabals,  let  us 
bless  Gcd  that  there  are  Barzillais  too. 

Of  Earzillai's  previous  history  we  know  nothing. 
We  do  not  even  know  where  Rogelim,  his  place  of 
abode,  was,  except  that  it  was  among  the  mountains  of 
Gilead.  The  facts  stated  regarding  him  are  few,  but 
suggestive. 

I.  He  was  ^^  a  very  great  man."  The  expression 
seems  to  imply  that  he  was  both  rich  and  influential. 
Dwelling  among  the  hills  of  Gilead,  his  only  occupation, 
and  main  way  of  becoming  rich,  must  have  been  as 
a  farmer.  The  two  and  a  half  tribes  that  settled  on 
the  east  of  the  Jordan,  while  they  had  a  smaller  share 
of  national  and  spiritual  privileges,  were  probably 
better  provided  in  a  temporal  sense.  That  part  of  the 
country  was  richer  in  pasturage,  and  therefore  better 
adapted  for  cattle.  It  is  probable,  too,  that  the  allot- 
ments were  much  larger.  The  kingdoms  of  Sihon  and 
Og,  especially  the  latter,  were  of  wide  extent.  If  the 
two  and  a  half  tribes  had  been  able  thoroughly  to 
subdue  the  original  inhabitants,  they  would  have  had 
possessions  of  great  extent  and  value.  Barzillai's 
ancestors  had  probably  received  a  valuable  and  exten- 
sive allotment,  and  had  been  strong  enough  and  coura- 
geous enough  to  keep  it  for  themselves.  Consequently, 
when  their  flocks  and  herds  multiplied,  they  were  not 
restrained  within  narrow  dimensions,  but  could  spread 
over  the  mountains  round  about.  But  however  his 
riches  may  have  been  acquired,  Barzillai  was  evidently 


xix.  3I-40.]  DAVID   AND  BARZILLAL  303 


a  man  of  very  large  means.  He  was  rich  apparently 
both  in  flocks  and  servants,  a  kind  of  chief  or  sheikh, 
not  only  with  a  large  establishment  of  his  own,  but 
enjoying  the  respect,  and  in  some  degree  able  to  com- 
mand the  services,  of  many  of  the  humble  people 
around  him. 

2.  His  generosity  was  equal  to  his  wealth.  The 
catalogue  of  the  articles  which  he  and  another  friend 
of  David's  brought  him  in  his  extremity  (2  Sam.  xvii. 
28,  29)  is  instructive  from  its  minuteness  and  its  length. 
Like  all  men  liberal  in  heart,  he  devised  liberal  things. 
He  did  not  ask  to  see  a  subscription  list,  or  inquire 
what  other  people  were  giving.  He  did  not  consider 
what  was  the  smallest  amount  that  he  could  give  with- 
out appearing  to  be  shabby.  His  only  thought  seems 
to  have  been,  what  there  was  he  had  to  give  that  could 
be  of  use  to  the  king.  It  is  this  large  inborn  gene- 
rosity manifested  to  David  that  gives  one  the  assurance 
that  he  was  a  kind,  generous  helper  wherever  there 
was  a  case  deserving  and  needing  his  aid.  We  class 
him  with  the  patriarch  of  Uz,  with  whom  no  doubt  he 
could  have  said,  ''When  the  eye  saw  me,  then  it 
blessed  me,  and  when  the  ear  heard  me,  it  bare  witness 
unto  me  ;  the  blessing  of  him  that  was  ready  to  perish 
came  upon  me,  and  I  made  the  widow's  heart  to  leap 
for  joy." 

3.  His  loyalty  was  not  less  thorough  than  his 
generosity.  When  he  heard  of  the  king's  troubles,  he 
seems  never  to  have  hesitated  one  instant  as  to  throw- 
ing in  his  lot  with  him.  It  mattered  not  that  the  king 
was  in  great  trouble,  and  apparently  in  a  desperate 
case.  Neighbours,  or  even  members  of  his  own  family, 
might  have  whispered  to  him  that  it  would  be  better 
not    to    commit   himself,    seeing    the  rebellion   was  so 


304  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

strong.  He  was  living  in  a  sequestered  part  of  the 
country ;  there  was  no  call  on  him  to  declare  himself  at 
that  particular  moment ;  and  if  Absalom  got  the  upper 
hand,  he  would  be  sure  to  punish  severely  those  who 
had  been  active  on  his  father's  side.  But  none  of  these 
things  moved  him.  Barzillai  was  no  sunshine  courtier, 
willing  to  enjoy  the  good  things  of  the  court  in  days  of 
prosperity,  but  ready  in  darker  days  to  run  off  and  leave 
his  friends  in  the  midst  of  danger.  He  was  one  of  those 
true  men  that  are  ready  to  risk  their  all  in  the  cause  of 
loyalty  when  persuaded  that  it  is  the  cause  of  truth 
and  right.  We  cannot  but  ask,  What  could  have  given 
him  a  feeling  so  strong?  We  are  not  expressly  told  that 
he  was  a  man  deeply  moved  by  the  fear  of  God,  but  we 
have  every  reason  to  believe  it.  If  so,  the  considera- 
tion that  would  move  him  most  forcibly  in  favour  of 
David  must  have  been  that  he  was  God's  anointed. 
God  had  called  him  to  the  throne,  and  had  never 
declared,  as  in  the  case  of  Saul,  that  he  had  forfeited  it ; 
the  attempt  to  drive  him  from  it  was  of  the  devil,  and 
therefore  to  be  resisted  to  the  last  farthing  of  his 
property,  and  if  he  had  been  a  younger  man,  to  the  last 
drop  of  his  blood.  Risk  ?  Can  you  frighten  a  man 
like  this  by  telling  him  of  the  risk  he  runs  by  supporting 
David  in  the  hour  of  adversity  ?  Why,  he  is  ready  not 
only  to  risk  all,  but  to  lose  all,  if  necessary,  in  a  cause 
which  appears  so  obviously  to  be  Divine,  all  the  more 
because  he  sees  so  well  what  a  blessing  David  has  been 
to  the  country.  Why,  he  has  actually  made  the  king- 
dom. Not  only  has  he  expelled  all  its  internal  foes, 
but  he  has  cowed  those  troublesome  neighbours  that 
were  constantly  pouncing  upon  the  tribes,  and  especially 
the  tribes  situated  in  Gilead  and  Bashan.  Moreover, 
he    has    given    unity    and    stability  to   all  the  internal 


xix.  3I-40.  DAVID   AND   BARZILLAL  305  s 

. j 

arrangements    of    the    kingdom.     See    what    a    grand  ! 

capital  he  has  made  for  it  at  Jerusalem.     Look  how  he  ! 

has    planted   the    ark    on   the   strongest   citadel   of  the  \ 

country,  safe  from  every  invading  foe.     Consider  how  I 

he  has  perfected  the  arrangements  for  the  service  of  the  | 

Levites,    what    a    delightful    service    of    song    he    has  \ 

instituted,  and  what  beautiful  songs  he  has  composed  \ 
for   the   use  of  the  sanctuary.     Doubtless  it  was  con- 
siderations of  this  kind  that  roused  Barzillai  to  such  a 

pitch  of  loyalty.     And  is  not  a  country  happy  that  has  j 

such    citizens,    men    who  place  their  personal    interest  | 

far  below  the  public  weal,  and  are  ready  to  make  any  ' 

sacrifice,  of  person   or  of  property,    when  the  highest  ^ 

interests  of  their  country  are  concerned  ?     We  do  not  I 

plead  for  the  kind  of  loyalty  that  clings  to  a  monarch  \ 

simply  because  he  is  king,  apart  from  all  considerations,  | 

personal    and    public,    bearing    on    his    worthiness    or  | 

unworthiness   of  the   office.     We  plead  rather  for  the  r 

spirit    that    makes    duty    to    country    stand    first,    and  ; 

personal    or   family  interest    a  long  way    below.     We  i 
deprecate    the    spirit    that    sneers  at   the  very   idea  of    ^      \ 

putting  one's  self  to  loss  or  trouble  of  any  kind  for  the  • 

sake  of  public  interests.     We  long  for  a  generation  of  H 

men  and   women   that,   like  many    in    this   country  in  | 

former  days,  are   willing  to  give  ''  all  for   the  Church  ^ 

and   a  little   less  for  the  State."     And  surely  in  these  % 

days,  when  no  deadly  risk  is  incurred,  the  demand  is  | 

not  so  very  severe.     Let  Christian  men  lay  it  on  their  | 

consciences   to   pay  regard   to  the  claims  under  which  i 

they  lie  to  serve  their  country.     Whether  it  be  in  the  { 
way  of  serving  on  some  public  board,  or  fighting  against 
some    national   vice,  or    advancing    some  great    public 
interest,   let  it  be  considered  even  by  busy   men    that 
their  country,  and       must  add,  their  Church,  have  true 

VOL    II.                                                                  20  \ 

\ 


3o6  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

claims  upon  them.  Even  heathens  and  unbelievers 
have  said,  "  It  is  sweet  and  glorious  to  die  for  one's 
country."  It  is  a  poor  state  of  things  when  in  a 
Christian  community  men  are  so  sunk  in  indolence 
and  selfishness  that  they  will  not  stir  a  finger  on  its 
behalf. 

4.  Barzillai  was  evidently  a  man  of  attractive  per- 
sonal qualities.  The  king  was  so  attracted  by  him, 
that  he  wished  him  to  come  with  him  to  Jerusalem, 
and  promised  to  sustain  him  at  court.  The  heart  of 
King  David  was  not  too  old  to  form  new  attachments. 
And  towards  Barzillai  he  was  evidently  drawn.  We 
can  hardly  suppose  but  that  there  were  deeper  qualities 
to  attract  the  king  than  even  his  loyalty  and  generosity. 
It  looks  as  if  David  perceived  a  spiritual  congeniahty 
that  would  make  Barzillai,  not  only  a  pleasant  inmate, 
but  a  profitable  friend.  For  indeed  in  many  ways 
Barzillai  and  David  seem  to  have  been  like  one  another. 
God  had  given  them  both  a  warm,  sunny  nature.  He 
had  prospered  them  in  the  world.  He  had  given  them 
a  deep  regard  for  Himself  and  delight  in  His  fellow- 
ship. David  must  have  found  in  Barzillai  a  friend 
whose  views  on  the  deepest  subjects  were  similar  to 
his  own.  At  Jerusalem  the  men  who  were  of  his  mind 
were  by  no  means  too  many.  To  have  Barzillai  beside 
him,  refreshing  him  with  his  experiences  of  God's 
ways  and  joining  with  him  in  songs  of  praise  and 
thanksgiving,  would  be  delightful.  "  Behold,  how 
good  and  how  pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell 
together  in  unity!"  But  however  pleasant  the  prospect 
may  have  been  to  David,  it  was  not  one  destined  to  be 
realized. 

5.  For  Barzillai  was  not  dazzled  even  by  the  highest 
offers  of  the  king,  because  he  felt  that  the  proposal  was 


xix.3i-40-]  DAVID  AND  BARZILLAI.  307 


unsuitable  for  his  years.     He  was  already  eighty,  and  i 

every  day  was   adding   to    his   burden,    and    bringing  • 
him  sensibly  nearer  the  grave.     Even  though  he  might 

be  enjoying  a  hale  old  age,  he  could  not  be  sure  that  | 

he  would  not  break  down  suddenly,  and  thus  become  | 

an    utter  burden    to   the  king.     David   had   made   the  I 

offer  as  a  compliment  to  Barzillai,  although  it  might  i 

also  be  a  favour  to  himself,  and  as  a  compliment  the  | 

aged  Gileadite  was  entitled  to  view  it.     And  viewing  it  j 

in   that  light,  he    respectfully  declined  it.     He  was  a  I 

home-loving   man,   his  habits    had  been   formed   for  a  | 

quiet  domestic  sphere,  and  it  was  too  late  to  change  ^ 

them.     His  faculties  were  losing  their  sharpness ;  his  | 

taste  had  become  dulled,  his  ear  blunted,  so  that  both  | 

savoury  dishes  and  elaborate  music  would  be  compara-  | 

tively  thrown    away   on    him.     The    substance    of  his  | 

answer  was,   I  am   an  old   man,  and  it  would  be  un-  ^ 

suitable  in  me  to  begin  a  courtier's  life.     In  a  word,  he  ■ 

understood   what  was   suitable   for  old  age.     Many  a  i 

man  and  woman  too,  perhaps,  even  of  Barzillai's  years,  : 

would  have  jumped  at  King  David's  offer,  and  rejoiced  ; 

to  share  the  dazzling  honours  of  a  court,  and  would  \ 

have  affected  youthful  feelings  and  habits  in  order  to  | 

enjoy  the  exhilaration  and  the  excitement  of  a  courtier's  | 

life.       In  Barzillai's  choice,   we  see  the  predominance  | 

of  a  sanctified  common  sense,  alive  to  the  proprieties  | 

of  things,   and  able   to   see   how  the  enjoyment   most  | 

suitable   to  an  advanced   period  of  life  might  best  be  \ 
had.     It  was  not  by  aping  youth  or  grasping  pleasures 

for  which  the  relish  had  gone.     Some  may  think  this  ; 

a   painful  view  of  old   age.       Is    it   so   that  as  years  j 

multiply  the  taste  for  youthful  enjoyments  passes  away,  j 

and  one  must  resign  one's  self  to  the  thought  that  life  i 

itself  is  near  its  end  ?     Undoubtedly  it  is.      But  even  a  \ 


3cS  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


heathen  could  show  that  this  is  by  no  means  an  evil. 
The  purpose  of  Cicero's  beautiful  treatise  on  old  agp, 
written  when  he  was  sixty-two,  but  regarded  as  spoken     '  i 
by  Cato  at  the  age  of  eighty-four,  was  to  show  that  the 
objections  commonly  brought  against  old  age  were  not 
really   valid.      These    objections   were — that    old    age 
unfits   men    for    active   business,    that  it    renders    the 
body  feeble,   that  it  deprives  them  of  the  enjoyment  of 
almost  all  pleasures,  and  that  it  heralds  the  approach 
of  death.     Let  it  be  granted,  is  the  substance  of  Cicero's 
argument ;  nevertheless,  old  age  brings  enjoyments  of 
a  new  order  that  compensate  for  those  which  it  with- 
draws.    If  we  have  wisdom  to  adapt  ourselves  to  our 
position,  and  to  lay  ourselves  out  for  those  compensa- 
tory pleasures,  we  shall  find  old  age  not  a  burden,  but 
a  joy.     Now,   if  even  a  heathen  could  argue  in   that 
way,    how    much    more    a   Christian !      If    he   cannot 
personally  be  so   lively  as  before,   he  may  enjoy  the 
young  life  of  his  children  and  grandchildren  or  other 
young  friends,  and  delight  to  see  them  enjoying  what 
he  cannot  now  engage  in.     If  active  pleasures  are  not  to 
be  had,  there  are  passive  enjoyments — the  conversation       1 
of  friends,  reading,  meditation,  and  the  like — of  which       j 
all  the  more  should  be  made.     If  one  world  is  gliding        \ 
from   him,  another  is  moving   towards   him.     As   the       \ 
outward  man  perisheth,  let  the  inward  man  be  renewed        | 
day  by  day.  | 

There  are  few  more  jarring  scenes  in  English  history  1 
than  the  last  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  As  life  was  \ 
passing  away,  a  historian  of  England  says,  "  she  clung  j 
to  it  with  a  fierce  tenacity.  She  hunted,  she  danced,  | 
she  jested  with  her  young  favourites,  she  coquetted,  and  |' 
frolicked,  and  scolded  at  sixty-seven  as  she  had  done  at  \ 
thirty."     '^The  Queen,"  wrote  a  courtier,  "  a  few  months       ! 


xix.3i-40.]              DAVID  AND  BARZILLAI.                          309  I 

before    her    death    was    never    so    gallant  these  many  | 

years,  nor  so  set  upon  jollity."     She  persisted,  in  spite  [ 

of  opposition,  in  her  gorgeous  progresses  from  country  | 

house  to  country  house.     She  clung  to  business  as  of  | 

old,  and  rated  in  her  usual  fashion  one  "  who  minded  ^ 

not  to  giving  up  some  matter  of  account."     And  then  a  % 

strange   melancholy  settled  on   her.     Her   mind    gave  \ 

way,  and  food  and  rest  became  alike  distasteful.     Clever  1 

woman,  yet   very   foolish  in   not  discerning  how  vain  1 

it  was  to  attempt   to  carry  the  brisk  habits  of  youth  \ 

into  old  age,  and  most  profoundly  foolish  in  not  having  > 

taken    pains    to   provide    for   old    age    the   enjoyments  [ 

appropriate    to    itself!     How    differently    it    has  fared  c 

with    those  who   have    been    wise   in  time   and  made  \ 

the  best   provision  for  old  age  !     ^^  I  have  waited  for  I 

Thy  salvation,  O  my  God,"  says  the  dying  Jacob,  re-  \ 

lieved  and  happy  to  think  that  the  object  for  which  he  \ 

had  waited  had  come  at  last.      '^  I  am  now  ready  to  be  1 

offered,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  and  the  time  of  my  departure  ;' 

is  at  hand.     I  have  fought  the  good  fight ;  I  have  finished  \ 
my  course ;  I  have  kept  the  faith  :  henceforth  there  is 

laid  up  for  me  a  crown    of  righteousness,    which    the  [ 
Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  will  give  me  at  that  day,  and 

not  to  me  only,  but  unto  all  them  also  that  love  His  ap-  j 

pearing."     Which  is  the  better  portion — he  whose  old  ^ 

age  is  spent  in  bitter  lamentation  over  the  departed  joys  | 

and   brightness   of  his   youth  ?  or  he  whose  sun  goes  .^ 

down  with  the  sweetness  and  serenity  of  an  autumn  k 

sunset,  but  only  to  rise  in  a  brighter  world,  and  shine  \ 

forth  in  the  glory  of  immortal  youth  ?  | 

6.   Holding  such  views  of  old  age,  it  was  quite  natural  ! 

and  suitable  for  Barzillai  to  ask  for  his  son  Chimham  j 

what    he    respectfully    declined    for   himself.     For    his  \ 

declinature    was    not    a    rude    rejection    of  an  honour  ( 

\ 


3IO  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

deemed  essentially  false  and  vain.      Barzillai  did   not 
tell  the  king  that  he  had  lived  to  see  the  folly  and  the 
sin  of  those  pleasures  which  in  the  days  of  youth  and 
inexperience     men    are    so    greedy    to    enjoy.       That 
would  have  been  an  affront  to  David,  especially  as  he 
was  now  getting  to  be  an  old  man  himself.     He  recog- 
nised that  a  livelier  mode  of  life  than  befitted  the  old 
was  suitable  for  the  young.     The  advantages  of  resi- 
dence  at  the  court  of  David  were  not  to  be  thought 
little   of  by  one   beginning   life,  especially  where  the 
head  of  the  court  was  such  a  man  as  David,  himself 
so  affectionate  and    attractive,    and  so  deeply  imbued 
with  the  fear   and  love  of  God.     The  narrative  is  so 
short  that  not  a  word  is  added  as  to  how  it  fared  with 
Chimham  when  he  came  to  Jerusalem.     Only  one  thing 
is  known  of  him  :  it  is  said  that,  after  the  destruction  of 
Jerusalem  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  when  Johanan  conducted 
to  Egypt  a  remnant  of  Jews  that  he  had  saved  from  the        \ 
murderous  hand  of  Ishmael,  '^  they  departed  and  dwelt 
in  the  habitation  of  Chimham,  which  is  by  Bethlehem, 
to  go  into  Egypt."     We  infer  that  David  bestowed  on         ' 
Chimham    some    part   of  his    paternal    inheritance   at        1 
Bethlehem.     The  vast  riches  which  he  had   amassed        1 
would   enable  him   to    make  ample    provision    for  his        $ 
sons ;  but  we  might  naturally  have  expected  that  the        s 
Vv^hole  of  the  paternal  inheritance  would  have  remained        | 
in    the   family.     For    some    reason    unknown    to    us,         f 
Chimham  seems  to  have  got  a  part  of  it.     We  cannot        [ 
but  believe   that  David  would   desire  to  have  a  good         | 
man  there,  and  it  is  much  in  favour  of  Chimham  that  he         { 
should  have  got  a  settlement  at  Bethlehem.     And  there         | 
is  another  circumstance  that  tells  in  his  favour :  during         : 
the  five  centuries    that  elapsed  between  David's  time         \ 
and    the   Captivity,    the  name   of  Chimham   remained         I 


xix.  3I-40-]  DAVID  AND   DARZILLAI.  311  | 

in  connection  with  that  property,  and  even  so  late  as  i 

the  time  of  Jeremiah  it  was  called  ^'Chimham's  habita-  1 

tion."     Men  do  not  thus  keep  alive  dishonoured  names,  | 

and  the  fact  that  Chimham's  was  thus  preserved  would  | 

seem  to  indicate  that  he  was  one  of  those  of  whom  it  is  f 

said,   ''The  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed."  | 

Plans  for  life  were  speedily  formed  in  those  countries;  \ 

and    as    Rebekah   wished    no   delay    in    accompanying  [ 

Abraham's  servant  to  be  the  wife  of  Isaac,  nor  Ruth  [ 

in    going  forth  with   Naomi  to  the  land  of  Judah,   so  | 

Chimham  at  once  went  with  the  king.     The  interview  [ 

between    David    and  Barzillai  was   ended  in  the  way  ; 

that  in  those  countries  was  the  most  expressive  sign  [ 

of  regard  and  affection  :  "  David  kissed  Barzillai,"  but  ^ 

''  Chimham  went  on  with  him."  \ 

The  meeting  with  Barzillai  and  the  finding  of  a  new  \ 

son  in  Chimham  must  have  been    looked  back  on  by  I 

David  with    highly  pleasant  feelings.     In  every  sense  ^ 

of  the  term,  he  had  lost  a  son  in  Absalom ;  he  seems  j 

now  to  find  one  in  Chimham.     We  dare  not  say  that  | 

the  one  was  compensation  for  the  other.     Such  a  blank  | 

as  the  death  of  Absalom  left  in  the  heart  of  David  could  \ 

never  be  filled  up  from  any  earthly  source  whatever.  \ 

Blanks  of  that  nature  can  be  filled  only  when  God  gives  \ 

a  larger  measure  of  His  own  presence  and  His  own  | 

love.     But   besides    feeling   very  keenly  the    blank  of  | 

Absalom's  death,  David  must  have  felt  distressed  at  the  J 

loss  as  it  seemed,  of  power,  to  secure  the  affections  |" 

of  the  younger  generation  of  his  people,  many  of  whom,  j 
there  is  every  reason  to  beHeve,  had  followed  Absalom. 
The  ready  way  in  which  Chimham  accepted  of  the  pro- 
posal in  regard  to  him  would  therefore  be  a  pleasant 
incident  in  his  experience  ;  and  the  remembrance  of  his 
father's  fast  attachment  and  most  useful  friendship  would 


312  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

ever    be    in    David's    memory   like    an    oasis    in    the 
desert. 

We  return  for  a  moment  to  the  great  lesson  of  this 
passage.  Aged  men,  it  is  a  lesson  for  you.  Titus  was 
instructed  to  exhort  the  aged  men  of  Crete  to  be 
"  sober,  grave,  temperate,  sound  in  faith,  in  charity,  in 
patience."  It  is  a  grievous  thing  to  see  grey  hairs 
dishonoured.  It  is  a  humiliating  sight  when  Noah 
excites  either  the  shame  or  the  derision  of  his  sons. 
But  "  the  hoary  head  is  a  crown  of  glory  if  it  is  found 
in  the  way  of  uprightness."  And  the  crown  is  des- 
cribed in  the  six  particulars  of  the  exhortation  to  Titus. 
It  is  a  crown  of  six  jewels.  Jewel  the  first  is  '^ sobriety," 
meaning  here  self-command,  self-control,  ability  to 
stand  erect  before  temptation,  and  calmness  under  pro- 
vocation and  trial.  Jewel  the  second  is  "  gravity,"  not 
sternness,  nor  sullenness,  nor  censoriousness,  but  the 
bearing  of  one  who  knows  that  '^  life  is  real,  life  is 
earnest,"  in  opposition  to  the  frivolous  tone  of  those 
who  act  as  if  there  were  no  life  to  come.  Jewel  the 
third  is  "  temperance,"  especially  in  respect  of  bodily 
indulgence,  keeping  under  the  body,  never  letting  it  be 
master,  but  in  all  respects  a  servant.  Jewel  the  fourth, 
"  soundness  in  faith,"  holding  the  true  doctrine  of 
eternal  life,  and  looking  forward  with  hope  and  expec- 
tation to  the  inheritance  of  the  future.  Jewel  the  fifth, 
"soundness  in  charity,"  the  charity  of  the  thirteenth 
chapter  of  I  Corinthians,  itself  a  coruscation  of  the 
brightest  gem  in  the  Christian  cabinet.  Jewel  the 
sixth,  "  soundness  in  patience,"  that  grace  so  needful, 
but  so  often  neglected,  that  grace  that  gives  an  air 
of  serenity  to  one's  character,  that  allies  it  to  heaven, 
that  gives  it  sublimity,  that  bears  the  unbearable, 
and  hopes  and  rejoices  on   the  very  edge  of  despair. 


xix.31-40.]  DAVID   AND   BARZILLAI.  313  | 

\ 

Onward,   then,  ye    aged    men,  in    this    glorious  path  !  [ 

By  God's    grace,    gather    round  your    head    these   in-  | 

corruptible  jewels,    which    shine    with     the    lustre    of  \ 

God's  holiness,  and  which   are  the   priceless   gems   ot  \ 

heaven.      Happy    are    ye,    if   indeed    3^ou    have    these  | 

jewels  for   your    crown  ;    and    happy  is    your    Church  \ 

where  the  aged  men  are  crowned  with  glory  like  the  \ 

four-and-twenty  elders  before  the  throne  !  • 

But  what  of  those  who  dishonour  God,  and  their 
own  grey  hairs,  and  the  Church  of  Christ  by  stormy 
tempers,  profane  tongues,  drunken  orgies,  and  disorderly 
lives?  *'0  my  soul,  come  not  thou  into  their  secret! 
To  their  assembly,  mine  honour,  be  not  thou  united  1" 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

THE  INSURRECTION  OF  SHEBA, 
2  Samuel  xix.  41 — 43  ;  xx. 

DAVID  was  now  virtually  restored  to  his  kingdom' ; 
but  he  had  not  even  left  Gilgal  when  fresh  troubles 
began.  The  jealousy  between  Judah  and  Israel  broke 
out  in  spite  of  him.  The  cause  of  complaint  was  on 
the  part  of  the  ten  tribes ;  they  were  offended  at  not 
having  been  waited  for  to  take  part  in  escorting  the 
king  to  Jerusalem.  First,  the  men  of  Israel,  in  harsh 
language,  accused  the  men  of  Judah  of  having  stolen 
the  king  away,  because  they  had  transported  him  over 
the  Jordan.  To  this  the  men  of  Judah  replied  that  the 
king  was  of  their  kin ;  therefore  they  had  taken 
the  lead,  but  they  had  received  no  special  reward  or 
honour  in  consequence.  The  men  of  Israel,  however, 
had  an  argument  in  reply  to  this  :  they  were  ten 
tribes,  and  therefore  had  so  much  more  right  to  the 
king ;  and  Judah  had  treated  them  with  contempt  in  not 
consulting  or  co-operating  with  them  in  bringing  him 
back.  It  is  added  that  the  v/ords  of  the  men  of  Judah 
were  fiercer  than  the  words  of  the  men  of  Israel. 

It  is  in  a  poor  and  paltry  light  that  both  sides 
appear  in  this  inglorious  dispute.  There  was  no  solid 
grievance  whatever,  nothing  that  might  not  have  been 
easily   settled    if  the   soft    answer  that    turneth    away 


f 
f 

I 

xix.4i-4i;xx.]   T/IE  /NS[/J^/^£Cr/ON-  OF  S/:^£BA.                 315  [ 

wrath    had    been    resorted    to    instead    of   fierce     and  ! 

exasperating  words.     Alas  !  that  miserable  tendency  of  i 

our  nature  to  take  offence  when  we  think  we  have  been  f 

overlooked, — what    mischief   and    misery   has    it    bred  | 

in  the  world  !     The  men  of  Israel  were  foolish  to  take  | 

offence ;  but     the    men    of  Judah    were    neither    mag-  | 

nanimous    nor    forbearing    in    dealing    with    their    un-  i 

reasonable  humour.     The  noble  spirit  of  clemency  that  j 

David    had     shown     awakened    but    little    permanent  ^  [ 

response.     The  men  of  Judah,  who  were  forem.ost  in  j 

Absalom's  rebellion,  were  like  the  man  in  the  parable  | 

that  had  been  forgiven  ten  thousand  talents,   but  had  \ 

not    the    generosity    to     forgive     the    trifling     offence  I 

committed    against    them,    as    they    thought,    by    their  | 

brethren  of  Israel.     So  they  seized  their  fellows-servant  | 

by  the  throat  and  demanded  that  he  should  pay  them  | 

the    uttermost    farthing.      Judah    played    false    to    his  t 

national    character ;  for    he    was    not    "  he    whom    his  ? 

brethren  should  praise."  l 

What    was   the  result  ?     Any    one  acquainted    with  ; 

human  nature  might    have    foretold    it   with   tolerable  { 

certainty.      Given    on    one    side    a   proneness    to    take  t 

offence,  a  readiness  to  think  that  one  has  been  over-  \ 

looked,  and   on    the   other  a    want    of  forbearance,   a  | 

readiness  to  retaliate, — it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  result  l 

will  be  a  serious  breach.     It  is  just  what  we  witness  | 

so  often  in  children.     One  is  apt  to  be  dissatisfied,  and  |^ 

complains  of  ill-treatment ;  another  has  no  forbearance,  | 

and  retorts  angrily :  the  result  is  a  quarrel,  with  this  I 

difference,    that   while    the    quarrels    of  children    pass  \ 

quickly  away,  the  quarrels  of  nations  or  of  factions  last  j 
miserably  long. 

Much   inflammable  material   being  thus   provided,  a 

casual  spark  speedily  set  it  on  fire.     Sheba,  an  artful  i 


3i6  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 


Beiijamite,  raised  the  standard  of  revolt  against  David, 
and  the  excited  ten  tribes,  smarting  with  the  fierce 
words  of  the  men  of  Judah,  flocked  to  his  standard. 
Most  miserable  proceeding !  The  quarrel  had  begun 
about  a  mere  point  of  etiquette,  and  now  they  cast 
off  God's  anointed  king,  and  that,  too,  after  the  most 
signal  token  of  God's  anger  had  fallen  on  Absalom 
and  his  rebellious  crew.  There  are  many  wretched 
enough  slaveries  in  this  world,  but  the  slavery  of 
pride  is  perhaps  the  most  mischievous  and  humiliating 
of  all. 

And  here  it  cannot  be  amiss  to  call  attention  to  the 
very  great  neglect  of  the  rules  and  spirit  of  Christianity 
that  is  apt,  even  at  the  present  day,  to  show  itself 
among  professing  Christians  in  connection  with  their 
disputes.  This  is  so  very  apparent  that  one  is  apt  to 
think  that  the  settlement  of  quarrels  is  the  very  last 
matter  to  which  Christ's  followers  learn  to  apply  the 
example  and  instructions  of  their  Master.  When  men 
begin  in  earnest  to  follow  Christ,  they  usually  pay 
considerable  attention  to  certain  of  His  precepts ;  they 
turn  away, from  scandalous  sins,  they  observe  prayer, 
they  show  some  interest  in  Christian  objects,  and  they 
abandon  some  of  the  more  frivolous  ways  of  the  world. 
But  alas  !  when  they  fall  into  differences,  they  are  prone 
in  dealing  with  them  to  leave  all  Christ's  precepts 
behind  them.  See  in  what  an  unlovely  and  unloving 
spirit  the  controversies  of  Christians  have  usually 
been  conducted ;  how  much  of  bitterness  and  personal 
animosity  they  show,  how  little  forbearance  and  gene- 
rosity ;  how  readily  they  seem  to  abandon  themselves 
to  the  impulses  of  their  own  hearts.  Controversy 
rouses  temper,  and  temper  creates  a  tempest  through 
which  you  cannot  see  clearly.     And  how  many  are  the 


xix.  41-43;  XX.]    THE  INSURRECTION  OF  SHEBA.  317 

quarrels  in  Churches  or  congregations  that  are  carried 
on  with  all  the  heat  and  bitterness  of  unsanctified  men  ! 
How  much  offence  is  taken  at  trifling  neglects  or 
mistakes  !  Who  remembers,  even  in  its  spirit,  the 
precept  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  "  If  any  man 
smite  thee  on  the  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other 
also  "  ?  Who  remembers  the  beatitude,  ''  Blessed  are 
the  peacemakers,  for  they  shall  be  called  the  children  of  I 

God "  ?  Who  bears  in  mind  the  Apostle's  horror  at 
the  unseemly  spectacle  of  saints  carrying  their  quarrels 
to  heathen  tribunals,  instead  of  settling  them  as  Chris-  j 

tians    quietly  among    themselves  ?     Who    weighs    the  \ 

earnest  counsel,  '-^  Endeavour  to  keep  the  unity  of  the  \ 

Spirit  in  the  bond  of  peace  "  ?    Who  prizes  our  gracious  \ 

Lord's  most  blessed  legacy,   '^  Peace  I  leave  with  you,  \ 

My  peace  I  give  unto  you ;  not  as  the  world  giveth  give  \ 

I    unto  you "  ?     Do  not  all  such  texts  show  that  it  is  \ 

incumbent  on  Christians  to  be  most  careful  and  watch-  '; 

ful,  when  any  difference  arises,  to  guard  against  carnal  ; 

feeling  of  every  kind,  and  strive  to  the  very  utmost  to  r 

manifest  the  spirit  of   Christ  ?     Yet  is  it  not  at  such  •; 

times  that  they  are  most  apt  to  leave  all  their  Chris-  ^. 

tianity  behind  them,  and  engage  in  unseemly  wrangles  \ 

with  one  another  ?     Does  not  the  devil  very  often  get  % 

it  all  his  own  way,  whoever  may  be  in  the  right,  and         | 
whoever  in  the  wrong  ?     And  is  not  frequent  occasion  | 

given  thereby  to  the  enemy  to  blaspheme,  and,  in  the  | 

very  circumstances  that  should  bring  out  in  clear  and  | 

strong  light  the  true  spirit  of  Christianity,  is  there  not  ^• 

often,  in  place  of  that,  an  exhibition  of  rudeness  and  \ 

bitterness  that  makes  the  world  ask,  What  better  are  \ 

Christians  than  other  men  ?  | 

But  let  us   return   to    King    David    and  his   people.         I 
The  author  of  the  insurrection  was  '*  a  man  of  Belial,         I 


3i8  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

whose  name  was  Sheba."  He  is  called  '^  the  son  of 
Bichri,  a  Benjamite."  Benjamin  had  a  son  whose 
name  w^as  Becher,  and  the  adjective  formed  from  that 
would  be  Bichrite ;  some  have  thought  that  Bichri 
denotes  not  his  father,  but  his  family.  Saul  appears 
to  have  been  of  the  same  family  (see  Speaker's 
Commentary  in  loco).  It  is  thus  quite  possible  that  Sheba 
was  a  relation  of  Saul,  and  that  he  had  always 
cherished  a  grudge  against  David  for  taking  the  throne 
which  he  had  filled.  Here,  we  may  remark  in  passing, 
would  have  been  a  real  temptation  to  Mephibosheth 
to  join  an  insurrection,  for  if  this  had  succeeded  he  was 
the  man  who  would  naturally  have  become  king.  But 
there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  Mephibosheth 
favoured  Sheba,  and  therefore  no  reason  to  doubt  the 
truth  of  the  account  he  gave  of  himself  to  David.  The 
war-cry  of  Sheba  was  an  artful  one — ''We  have  no 
part  in  David,  neither  have  we  inheritance  in  the  son 
of  Jesse."  It  was  a  scornful  and  exaggerated  mockery 
of  the  claim  that  Judah  had  asserted  as  being  of  the 
same  tribe  with  the  king,  whereas  the  other  tribes 
stood  in  no  such  relation  to  him.  "  Very  well,"  was 
virtually  the  cry  of  Sheba — '*  if  we  have  no  part  in 
David,  neither  any  inheritance  in  the  son  of  Jesse,  let 
us  get  homiC  as  fast  as  possible,  and  leave  his  friends, 
the  tribe  of  Judah,  to  make  of  him  what  they  can." 
It  was  not  so  much  a  setting  up  of  a  new  rebellion 
as  a  scornful  repudiation  of  all  interest  in  the  existing 
king.  Instead  of  going  with  David  from  Gilgal  to 
Jerusalem,  they  went  up  every  man  to  his  tent  or 
to  his  home.  It  is  not  said  that  they  intended  actively 
to  oppose  David,  and  from  this  part  of  the  narrative 
we  should  suppose  that  all  that  they  intended  was 
to  make  a  pubUc  protest  against  the  unworthy  treat- 


xix.  4 1  -43  ;  xx. ]    THE  INS  URRE  C  TION  OF  SHEBA .  319  i 

— i 

nient  which  they  held  that  they  had  received.     It  must  j 

have  greatly  disturbed  the  pleasure  of  David's  return  | 

to    Jerusalem    that    this    unseemly  secession    occurred  ? 

by  the  way.     A  chill  must  have  fallen  upon  his  heart  ^ 

just  as  it  was  beginning  to  recover  its  elasticity.     And  | 

much  anxiety  must  have  haunted  him  as  to  the  issue  I 

—  whether  or  not  the  movement  would  go  on  to  another  | 

insurrection  Hke  Absalom's  ;    or  whether,   having  dis-  | 

charged  their  dissatisfied  feeling,   the  people  of  Israel  j 

would  return  sullenly  to  their  allegiance.  j 

Nor    could    the    feelings    of   King    David    be    much  j 

soothed  when    he  re-entered   his  home.     The  greater  \ 

part  of  his  family  had  been  with  him  in  his  exile,  and  | 

when  he  returned  his  house  was  occupied  by  the  ten  I 

women  whom  he  had  left  to  keep  it,   and  with  whom  | 

Absalom  had  behaved  dishonourably.     And  here  was  I 

another  trouble  resulting  from  the  rebellion  that  could  | 

not  be  adjusted  in  a  satisfactory  way.     The  only  way  ? 

of   disposing   of   them  was  to  put   them   in   ward,   to  ; 

shut  them  up  in  confinement,  to  wear  out  the  rest  of  \ 
their  lives   in  a  dreary,  joyless  widowhood.      All  joy  ! 

and  brightness  was  thus  taken  out  of  their  lives,  and  I 

personal  freedom  was  denied  them.  They  were  doomed,  I 
for  no  fault  of  theirs,  to  the  weary  lot  of  captives,  curs-  | 

ing  the  day,  probably,  when  their  beauty  had  brought  ^ 
them  to  the  palace,  and  wishing  that  they  could  | 
exchange  lots  with  the  humblest  of  their  sisters  that  I 
breathed  the  air  of  freedom.  Strange  that,  with  all  his  t' 
spiritual  instincts,  David  could  not  see  that  a  system  I 
which  led  to  such  miserable  results  must  he  under  j 
the  curse  of  God  !  | 

As  events  proceeded,  it  appeared  that  active  mischief 
was  hkely  to  arise  from  Sheba's  movement.     He  was         j 
accompanied  by  a  body  of  t'bllowers,  and  the  king  was        j 

I 

I 

I 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


afraid   lest  he  should  get  into  some   fenced   city,   and        i 
escape  the  correction  which  his  wickedness  deserved. 
He    accordingly   sent  Amasa  to  assemble   the  men  of    •  ': 
Judah,     and    return    within    three    days.       This    was    , 
Amasa's    first    commission    after    his    being    appointed 
general  of  the  troops.     Whether  he  found  the  people 
unwilhng    to    go    out    again    immediately    to    war,    or         '- 
whether    they  were  unwilling   to  accept    him  as  their 
general,  we  are  not  told,  but  certainly  he  tarried  longer 
than    the   time  appointed.     Thereupon   the  king,    who  ■: 

was  evidently  alarmed  at  the  serious  dimensions  which         ' 
the    insurrection    of    Sheba    was    assuming,    sent    for         , 
Abishai,  Joab's  brother,  and  ordered  him  to  take  what 
troops   were   ready   and    start   immediately    to    punish 
Sheba.    Abishai  took  "Joab's  men,  and  the  Cherethites 
and  the  Pelethites,  and  all    the    mighty  men."     With 
these   he   went  out   from   Jerusalem   to    pursue   after         \ 
Sheba.     How  Joab  conducted  himself  on  this  occasion 
is  a  strange  but  characteristic  chapter  of  his  history. 
It  does  not  appear  that  he  had  any  dealings  with  David, 
or  that  David  had  any  dealings  with  him.     He  simply         ; 
went  out   with   his   brother,  and,  being  a  man  of  the         j 
strongest  will  and  greatest  daring,   he  seems  to  have         i 
resolved  on  some  fit  occasion  to  resume  his  command         \ 
in  spite  of  all  the  king's  arrangements.  i 

They  had  not  gone  farther  from  Jerusalem  than  the 
Pool  of  Gibeon  when  they  were  overtaken  by  Amasa, 
followed  doubtless  by  his  troops.  When  Joab  and  Amasa 
met,  Joab,  actuated  by  jealousy  towards  him  as  having 
superseded  him  in    the   command  of  the   army,  trea-  | 

cherously    slew   him,    leaving    his    dead    body    on  the  ■' 

ground,  and,  along  with  Abishai,  prepared  to  give  pursuit 
after  Sheba.  An  officer  of  Joab's  was  stationed  beside 
Amasa's  dead  body,  to  call  on  the  soldiers,  when  they 


xix.  41-43;  XX.]    THE  INSURRECTION  OF  SHEBA,  321  I 

saw    that  their  chief  was  dead,   to  follow  Joab  as  the  I 

friend  of   David.     But  the  sight  of  the  dead  body  of  j 

Amasa    only    made    them    stand    still — horrified,   most  \ 

probably,  at  the  crime  of  Joab,  and  unwilling  to  place  ;i| 

themselves  under  one  who  had  been  guilty  of  such  a  > 

crime.     The  body  of  Amasa  was  accordingly  removed  \ 

from  the  highway  into  the  field,  and  his  soldiers  were  { 

then  ready  enough  to  follow  Joab.     Joab  was  now  in  [ 

undisturbed  command  of  the  whole  force,  having  set  j 

aside  all  David's  arrangements  as  completely  as  if  they  \ 

had   never    been    made.     Little    did   David   thus    gain  • 

by   superseding   Joab    and    appointing    Amasa   in    his  ^? 

room.     The  son  of  Zeruiah  proved  himself  again  too  j 

strong  for  him.     The  hideous  crime  by  which  he  got  I 

rid  of  his   rival  was  nothing  to  him.     How  he  could  | 

reconcile  all  this   with   his   duty  to    his   king  we   are  I 

unable  to  see.     No  doubt  he  trusted  to  the  principle  \ 

that  '^  success  succeeds,"  and  beheved  firmly  that  if  he  ^ 

were  able  entirely  to  suppress  Sheba's  insurrection  and  . 

return  to  Jerusalem  with  the  news  that  every  trace  of         \ 
the  movement  was  obliterated,  David  would  say  nothing  i^ 

of  the  past,  and  silently  restore  the  general  who,  with  | 

all  his  faults,  did  so  well  in  the  field.  I 

Sheba   was  quite  unable   to  offer  opposition  to  the  | 

force  that  was    thus   led  against   him.     He   retreated  | 

northwards  from  station  to  station,  passing  in  succes-  \ 

sion  through  the  different  tribes,  until  he  came  to  the 
extreme  northern  border  of  the  land.     There,  in  a  town  | 

called  Abel-beth-Maachah,  he  took  refuge,  till  Joab 
and  his  forces,  accompanied  by  the  Berites,  a  people 
of  whom  we  know  nothing,  having  overtaken  him  at 
Abel,  besieged  the  town.  Works  were  raised  for  the 
purpose  of  capturing  Abel,  and  an  assault  was  made  on 
the  wall  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  it  down.  Then  a 
VOL.  II.  21 


l^- 


322  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

woman,  gifted  with  the  wisdom  for  which  the  place 
was  proverbial,  came  to  Joab  to  remonstrate  against  the 
siege.  The  ground  of  her  remonstrance  was  that  the 
people  of  Abel  had  done  nothing  on  account  of  which 
their  city  should  be  destroyed.  Joab,  she  said,  was 
trying  to  destroy  "  a  city  and  a  mother  in  Israel,"  and 
thereby  to  swallow  up  the  inheritance  of  the  X^or4r  In 
what  sense  was  Joab  seeking  to  destroy  a  mother  in 
Israel  ?  The  word  seems  to  be  used  to  denote  a 
mother-city  or  district  capital,  on  which  other  places 
were  depending.  What  you  are  trying  to  destroy  is 
not  a  mere  city  of  Israel,  but  a  city  which  has  its  family 
of  dependent  villages,  all  of  which  must  share  in  the 
ruin  if  we  are  destroyed.  But  Joab  assured  the  woman 
that  he  had  no  such  desire.  All  that  he  wished  was  to 
get  at  Sheba,  who  had  taken  refuge  within  the  city. 
If  that  be  all,  said  the  woman,  I  will  engage  to  throw 
his  head  to  thee  over  the  wall.  It  was  the  interest  of 
the  people  of  the  city  to  get  rid  of  the  man  who  was 
bringing  them  into  so  serious  a  danger.  It  was  not 
difficult  for  them  to  get  Sheba  decapitated,  and  to  throw 
his  head  over  the  wall  to  Joab.  By  this  means  the 
conspiracy  was  ended.  As  in  Absalom's  case,  the 
death  of  the  leader  was  the  ruin  of  the  cause.  No 
further  stand  was  made  by  any  one.  Indeed,  it  is 
probable  that  the  great  body  of  Sheba's  followers  had 
fallen  away  from  him  in  the  course  of  his  northern 
flight,  aiid  that  only  a  handful  were  with  him  in  Abel. 
So  "Joab  blew  a  trumpet,  and  they  retired  from  the 
city,  every  man  to  his  tent.  And  Joab  returned  unto 
Jerusalem,  to  the  king." 

Thus,  once  again,  the  land  had  rest  from  war.  At 
the  close  of  the  chapter  we  have  a  list  of  the  chief 
officers    of    the    kingdom,    similar    to    that    given    in 


xix.  41-43  ;  XX.]    THE  INSURRECTION  OF  SHEBA.  323 

ch.  viii.  at  the  close  of  David's  foreign  wars.  It  would 
appear  that,  peace  being  again  restored,  pains  were 
taken  by  the  king  to  improve  and  perfect  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  administration  of  the  kingdom.  The 
changes  on  the  former  list  are  not  very  numerous.  Joab 
was  again  at  the  head  of  the  army ;  Benaiah,  as  before, 
commanded  the  Cherethites  and  the  Pelethites  ;  Jehosha- 
phat  was  still  recorder  ;  Sheva  (same  as  Seraiah)  was 
scribe ;  and  Zadok  and  Abiathar  were  priests.  In  two 
cases  there  was  a  change.  A  new  office  had  been 
instituted — "  Adoram  was  over  the  tribute  ;  "  the  sub- 
jugation of  so  many  foreign  states  which  had  to  pay  a 
yearly  tribute  to  David  called  for  this  change.  In  the 
earlier  list  it  is  said  that  the  king's  sons  were  chief 
rulers.  No  mention  is  made  of  king's  sons  now ;  the 
>  chief  ruler  is  Ira  the  Jairite.  On  the  whole,  there  was 
little  change ;  at  the  close  of  this  war  the  kingdom  was 
administered  in  the  same  manner  and  almost  by  the 
same  men  as  before. 

There  is  nothing  to  indicate  that  the  kingdom  was 
weakened  in  its  external  relations  by  the  two  insurrec- 
tions that  had  taken  place  against  David.  It  is  to  be 
observed  that  both  of  them  were  of  very  short  duration. 
Between  Absalom's  proclamation  of  himself  at  Hebron 
and  his  death  in  the  wood  of  Ephraim  there  must  have 
been  a  very  short  interval,  not  more  than  a  fortnight. 
The  insurrection  of  Sheba  was  probably  all  over  in  a 
week.  Foreign  powers  could  scarcely  have  heard  of  the 
beginning  of  the  revolts  before  they  heard  of  the  close 
of  them.  There  would  be  nothing  therefore  to  give 
them  any  encouragement  to  rebel  against  David,  and 
they  do  not  appear  to  have  made  any  such  attempt. 
But  in  another  and  higher  sense  these  revolts  left 
painful  consequences  behind  them.     The  chastening  to 


324  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

which  David  was  exposed  in  connection  with  them  was 
very  humbling.     His  glory  as  king  was  seriously  im-    ;• 
paired.     It  was  humiliating  that   he  should  have  had  .. 
to  fly  from  before  his  own  son.      It  was  hardly  less     • 
humiliating  that   he  was   seen   to  lie  so   much   at   the  ' 
mercy  of  Joab.     He  is   unable  to   depose   Joab,    and    " 
when  he  tries  to  do  so,  Joab  not  only  kills  his  successor,  j:. 
but  takes  possession  by  his  own  authority  of  the  vacant 
place.     And  David  can  say  nothing.     In  this  relation    ' 
of  David  to  Joab  we   have  a   sample   of  the  trials   of 
kings.     Nominally  supreme,  they  are  often  the  servants  , 
of  their  ministers   and  officers.     Certainly  David  was 
not  always   his   own  master.     Joab  was   really   above 
him  ;   frustrated,  doubtless,  some  excellent   plans ;  did 
great  service  by  his  rough  patriotism  and  ready  valour, 
but  injured  the  good  name  of  David  and  the  reputation 
of  his    government    by    his    daring    crimes.     The    re- 
trospect of  this  period  of  his   reign  could  have  given 
little  satisfaction  to  the  king,  since  he  had  to  trace  it, 
with  all  its  calamities  and  sorrows,  to  his  own  evil  con- 
duct.    And    yet    what    David   suffered,   and    what    the 
nation  suffered,  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  the  punish- 
ment of  his  sin.     God  had  forgiven  him  his  sin.    David 
had  sung,  "Blessed  is  the  man  whose  iniquity  is  for- 
given, whose  sin  is  covered."     What  he  now  suffered 
was  not  the  visitation  of  God's  wrath,  but  a  fatherly 
chastening,    designed    to    deepen    his    contrition    and 
quicken  his  vigilance.     And  surely  we  may  say.  If  the 
fatherly    chastening  was    so    severe,   what    would    the 
Divine  retribution   have  been  ?     If  these  things  were 
done  in  the  green  tree,  what  would  have  been  done  in 
the  dry  ?    If  David,  even  though  forgiven,  could  not  but 
shudder  at  all  the  terrible  results  of  that  course  of  sin 
which   began  with  his  allowing  himself  to   lust  after 


jtix. 41-43;  XX.]    THE  INSURRECTION  OF  SHEBA.  325 

Bathsheba,  what  must  be  the  feeling  of  many  a  lost 
soul,  in  the  world  of  woe,  recalling  its  first  step  in  open 
rebellion  against  God,  and  thinking  of  all  the  woes, 
innumerable  and  unutterable,  that  have  sprung  there- 
from ?  Oh,  sin,  how  terrible  a  curse  thou  bringest  ! 
What    serpents    spring    up    from    the    dragon's    teeth !  \ 

And  how  awful  the  fate  of  those  who  awake  all  too  late  \ 

to  a  sense  of  what  thou  art  !     Grant,  O  God,  of  Thine  i 

infinite  mercy,  that  we  all  may  be  wise  in  time  ;  that  we  } 

may  ponder  the  solemn  truth,  that  ''  the  wages  of  sin  j 

is  death "  ;   and  that,   without  a   day's  delay,  we  may  ! 

flee  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  of  the  hope  set  before  us,  \ 

and  find  peace  in  believing  on  Him  who  came  to  take  | 

sin  away  by  the  sacrifice  of  Himself !  \ 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE    FAMINE. 
2  Samuel  xxi.  i — 14. 

WE  now  enter  on  the  concluding  part  of  the  reign 
of  David.  Some  of  the  matters  in  which  he 
was  most  occupied  during  this  period  are  recorded  only 
in  Chronicles.  Among  these,  the  chief  was  his  pre- 
parations for  the  building  of  the  temple,  which  great 
work  was  to  be  undertaken  by  his  son.  In  the 
concluding  part  of  Samuel  the  principal  things  recorded 
are  two  national  judgments,  a  famine  and  a  pestilence, 
that  occurred  in  David's  reign,  the  one  springing  from 
a  transaction  in  the  days  of  Saul,  the  other  from  one 
in  the  days  of  David.  Then  we  have  two  very  remark- 
able lyrical  pieces,  one  a  general  song  of  thanksgiving, 
forming  a  retrospect  of  his  whole  career ;  the  other 
a  prophetic  vision  of  the  great  Ruler  that  was  to  spring 
from  him,  and  the  effects  of  His  reign.  In  addition 
to  these,  there  is  also  a  notice  of  certain  wars  of 
David's,  not  previously  recorded,  and  a  fuller  state- 
ment respecting  his  great  men  than  we  have  elsewhere. 
The  whole  of  this  section  has  more  the  appearance  of 
a  collection  of  pieces  than  a  chronological  narrative. 
It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  they  are  all  recorded 
in  the  order  of  their  occurrence.  The  most  character- 
istic of  the  pieces  are  the  two  songs  or  psalms — the 


xi.  I -14.]  THE   FAMINE.  327 

one  locking  back,  the  other  looking  forward ;  the  one 
commemorating  the  goodness  and  mercy  that  had 
followed  him  all  the  days  of  his  life,  the  other  picturing 
goodness  still  greater  and  mercy  more  abundant,  yet 
to  be  vouchsafed  under  David's  Son. 

The    conjunction    ''  then "   at    the    beginning   of   the 

chapter  is  replaced  in  the  Revised  Version  by  ''and." 

It   does   not   denote   that   what  is  recorded  here   took 

place    immediately   after  what   goes    before.      On    the 

contrary,    the    note   of  time    is  found    in    the   general 

expression,  ''in  the  days  of  David,"  that  is,  some  time 

in  David's  reign.      On  obvious  grounds,   most  recent 

commentators   are  disposed    to    place    this    occurrence 

comparatively  early.      It    is   likely   to   have   happened 

while  the   crime  of  Saul  was  yet  fresh  in  the   public 

recollection.       By  the   close    of  David's    reign    a  new 

generation  had  come  to  maturity,  and  the  transactions 

of  Saul's  reign  must  have  been  comparatively  forgotten. 

It  is  clear  from  David's  excepting  Mephibosheth,  that 

the  transaction  occurred  after  he  had  been  discovered 

and  cared  for.      Possibly  the  narrative  of  the  discovery 

of  Mephibosheth    may    also    be    out    of  chronological 

order,  and  that  event  may  have  occurred  earlier  than 

is   commonly   thought.      It  will  remove    some    of   the 

difficulties  of  this  difficult  chapter  if  we   are  entitled  | 

to  place  the  occurrence  at  a  time  not  very  far  remote  \ 

from  the  death  of  Saul.  | 

It  was  altogether  a  singular  occurrence,  this  famine  | 

in  the  land  of  Israel.     The  calamity  was  remarkable,  \ 

the  cause  was  remarkable,  the  cure  most  remarkable  [ 

of  all.     The  whole  narrative  is  painful  and  perplexing;  I 

it  places  David  in  a  strange  light, — it  seems  to  place  j 

even  God  Himself  in   a   strange   light ;    and  the  only  ! 

way  in  which  we  can  explain  it,  in  consistency  with  \ 

\ 


328  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  . 

a  righteous  government,  is  by  laying  great  stress  on  i 
a  principle  accepted  without  hesitation  in  those  Eastern  | 
countries,  which  made  the  father  and  his  children  ^'  one  i 
concern,"  and  held  the  children  liable  for  the  misdeeds  | 
of  the  father.  I 
I.  As  to  the  calamity.     It  was  a  famine  that  con-  I 
tinued   three  successive  years,  causing  necessarily  an  ; 
increase    of    misery    year    after   year.       There    is    a  ! 
presumption    that   it    occurred    in    the    earlier  part    of 
David's  reign,  because,  if  it  had  been  after  the  great  i 
enlargement  of  the  kingdom  which  followed  his  foreign  ! 
wars,   the  resources  of  some  parts  of  it  would  prob- 
ably have   availed  to   supply  the    deficiency.     At  first  | 
it  does  not  appear  that  the  king  held  that  there  was  • 
any  special  significance   in  the  famine, — that  it  came  } 
as  a  reproof  for   any  particular  sin.      But  when   the  i 
famine  extended  to  a  third  year,  he  was  persuaded  that  \ 
it  must  have  a  special  cause.     Did  he  not  in  this  just 
act  as  we  all  are  disposed  to  do  ?    A  little  trial  we  deem 
to  be  nothing;   it   does  not   seem  to  have   any  signi- 
ficance or  to  be  connected  with  any  lesson.     It  is  only 
when  the  little  trial  swells  into  a  large  one,  or  the  brief  I 
trouble  into  a  long-continued  affliction,  that  we  begin  \ 
to  inquire  why  it  was  sent.     If  small  trials  were  more  ? 
regarded,    heavy   trials  would    be    less    needed.       The  i 
horse  that   springs  forward   at  the   slightest   touch  of  | 
the  whip  or  prick  of  the  spur  needs  no  heavy  lash  ;  | 
it   is   only  when    the    lighter    stimulus   fails    that    the  f 
heavier  has  to  be  applied.     Man's  tendency,  even  under  | 
God's  chastenings,  has  ever  been  to  ignore  the  source  i 
of  them, — when  God   "poured  upon   him  the  fury  of       j 
His  anger  and  the  strength  of  battle,  and  it  set  him  [ 
on  fire  round  about,  yet  he  knew  not;  and  it  burned        I 
him,  yet  he  laid  it  not  to  heart "  (Isa.  xlii.  25).     Trials        \ 


xxi.  I-I4.]  THE  FAMINE.  329 

would  neither  be  so  long  nor  so  severe  if  more  regard  [ 

were   had   to   them  in  an  earlier   stage;    if  they  were  ■ 

accepted   more  as    God's    message — ''  Thus    saith    the  | 

Lord  of  hosts,  Consider  your  ways."  | 

2.  The  cause  of  the  calamity  was  made  known  when  | 

David  inquired  of  the  Lord — "  It  is  for  Saul  and  his  \ 

bloody  house,  because  he  slew  the  Gibeonites."  \ 

The  history  of  the  crime  for  which  this  famine  was  \ 

sent    can    be    gathered    only    from    incidental    notices.  [ 

It    appears    from    the    narrative    before    us    that   Saul  j 

'*  consumed  the  Gibeonites,   and  devised  against  them  | 

that  they  should  be  destroyed  from  remaining  in  any  of  \ 

the  coasts  of  Israel."     The  Gibeonites,  as  is  well  known,  \ 

were    a    Canaanite    people,    who,    through  a    cunning  ^• 

stratagem,  obtained  leave  from  Joshua  to  dwell  in  their  | 

old    settlements,    and    being    protected    by    a    solemn  \ 

national  oath,   were  not    disturbed  even    when  it  was  | 

found  out  that  they  had  been  practising  a  fraud.     They  \ 

possessed  cities,    situated    principally    in    the    tribe   of  | 

Benjamin;  the  chief  of  them,  Gibeon,  "was  a  great  city,  f 

one  of  the  royal  cities,  greater  than  Ai."     In  the  time  \ 

of  Saul  they  were  a  quiet,  inoffensive  people ;  yet   he  \ 

seems  to  have  fallen  on  them  with  a  determination  to  | 

sweep  them    from  all  the  coasts  of  Israel.     Death   or  I 

banishment  was  the  only  alternative  he  offered.     His  | 

desire  to  exterminate   them  evidently  failed,  otherwise  \ 

David  would  have  found  none  of  them  to  consult ;  but  | 

the  savage  attack  which  he  made  on  them  affords  an  f 

incidental  proof  that  it  was  no  feeling  of  humanity  that  \ 

led  him  to  spare  the  Amalekites  when  he  was  ordered  \ 

to  destroy  them.  j 

We  are  not  told  of  any  offence  that  the  Gibeonites  j 

had  committed;  and  perhaps  covet ousness  lay  at  the  j 

root  of  Saul's  policy.     There  is  reason  to  believe  that  \ 

'   .  '  \ 

I 


330  TJ7£  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  ! 

when   he    saw    his    popularity    declining    and    David's  i 
advancing,   he  had  recourse   to    unscrupulous   methods  j 
of  increasing  his  own.     Addressing  his  servants,  before  | 
the  slaughter  of  Abimelech  and  the  priests,   he  asked,  I 
"  Hear  now,  ye  Benjamites  ;  will  the  son  of  Jesse  give  ! 
you  fields  and  vineyards,  that  all  of  you  have  conspired  ! 
against  me  ?  "     Evidently  he  had  rewarded  his  favour- 
ites, especially  those  of  his  own  tribe,  with  fields  and  | 
vineyards.     But  how    had    he  got    these    to    bestow  ?  ; 
Very  probably  by  dispossessing  the  Gibeonites.     Their  \ 
cities,  as  we  have  seen,  were  in  the  tribe  of  Benjamin.  j 
But  to  prevent  jealousy,  others,  both  of  Judah  and  of  |. 
Israel,  would  get  a  share  of  the  spoil.     For  he  is  said 
to  have  sought  to  slay  the  Gibeonites  "  in  his  zeal  for  i 
the  children  of  Israel  and  Judah."     If  this  was  the  way 
in    which   the  slaughter   of  the   Gibeonites    was  com- 
passed, it  was  fair  that  the    nation  should   suffer  for  j 
it.     If  the  nation  profited  by  the  unholy  transaction,  | 
and  was  thus  induced  to  wink  at  the  violation  of  the  \ 
national  faith  and  the  massacre  of  an  inoffensive  people,  ' 
it  shared  in  Saul's  guilt,  and  became  liable  to  chastise- 
ment.    Even  David  himself  was  not  free  from  blame.  j 
When   he    came  to  the   throne  he  should    have    seen  | 
justice  done  to  this  injured  people.     But  probably  he  c 
was  afraid.     He  felt  his  own  authority  not  very  secure,  | 
and    probably  he  shrank    from  raising  up  enemies  in  | 
those  whom  justice  would  have  required   him  to  dis-  | 
possess.     Prince  and    people    therefore   were    both   at  \ 
fault,  and  both  were  suffering  for  the  wrongdoing  of  | 
the  nation.     Perhaps  Solomon  had  this   case  in  view  { 
when  he  wrote  :  ''  Rob  not  the  poor  because  he  is  poor,  | 
neither  oppress  the  afQicted  in  the  gate ;  for  the  Lord  I 
will  plead  their  cause,  and  spoil  the  soul  of  those  that  I 
spoiled  them."  -, 


xxi.i-i4.]  THE  FAMINE.  331 

But  whatever  may  have  been  Saul's  motive,  it  is 
certain  that  by  his  attempt  to  massacre  and  banisli 
the  Gibeonites  a  great  national  sin  was  committed, 
and  that  for  this  sin  the  nation  had  never  humbled 
itself,  and  never  made  reparation. 

3.  What,  then,  was  now  to  be  done  ?  The  king 
left  it  to  the  Gibeonites  themselves  to  prescribe  the 
satisfaction  which  they  claimed  for  this  wrong.  This 
was  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  law  that  gave 
a  murdered  man's  nearest  of  kin  a  right  to  exact  justice 
of  the  murderer.  In  their  answer  the  Gibeonites  dis- 
claimed all  desire  for  compensation  in  money ;  and  j 
very  probably  this  was  a  surprise  to  the  people.  To  ? 
surrender  lands  might  have  been  much  harder  than  • 
to  give  up  lives.  What  the  Gibeonites  asked  had  a  \ 
grim  look  of  justice ;  it  showed  a  burning  desire  to  \ 
bring  home  the  punishment  as  near  as  possible  to  j 
the  offender :  ''  The  man  that  consumed  us,  and 
that  devised  against  us  that  we  should  be  destroyed 
from  remaining  in  any  of  the  coasts  of  Israel,  let 
seven  men  of  his  sons  be  delivered  unto  us,  and 
we  will  hang  them  up  unto  the  Lord  in  Gibeah  of 
Saul,  whom  the  Lord  did  choose."  Seven  was  a  | 
perfect  number,  and  therefore  the  victims  should  be  | 
seven.  Their  punishment  was,  to  be  hanged  or  | 
crucified,  but  in  inflicting  this  punishment  the  Jews  I 
were  more  merciful   than  the  Romans  ;   the  criminals                | 


were   first   put   to  death,  then  their  dead  bodies  were  \ 

exposed    to    open   shame.     They  were   to    be   hanged  ( 

*'unto  the  Lord,"  as  a  satisfaction  to  expiate  His  just  j 

displeasure.     They  were  to  be  hanged  ''in  Gibeah  of  j 

Saul,"  to   bring   home   the   offence  visibly  to   him,    so  j 

that  the  expiation  should  be  at  the  same  place  as  the  ! 

crime.      And    when    mention    is    made    of    Saul,    the  \ 


332  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


r. 


Gibeonites  add,  ^'  Whom  the  Lord  did  choose."     For  ! 

Jehovah  was  intimately  connected  with  Saul's  call  to  ; 

the  throne ;  He  was  in  some  sense  publicly  identified  ^ 

with   him;    and  unless   something  were   done   to   dis-  j 

connect  Him  with  this  crime,  the  reproach  of  it  would,  ■ 

in  measure,  rest  upon  Him.  I 

Such  was  the  demand  of  the  Gibeonites ;  and  David 

deemed  it  right  to  comply  with  it,  stipulating  only  that  . 

the  descendants  of  Jonathan  should  not  be  surrendered,  i 

The  sons  or  descendants  of  Saul  that  were  given  up  \ 

for  this  execution  were  the  two  sons  of  Rizpah,  Saul's  \ 

concubine,  and  along  with  them  five  sons  of  Michal,  \ 

or,  as  it  is  in  the  margin,  of  Merab,  the  elder  daughter  i 

of  Saul,  whom  she  bare  (R.  V. — not  '^  brought  up,"  A.  V.)  \ 

to  Adriel  the  Meholathite.     These  seven  men  were  put  ; 

to  death  accordingly,  and  their  bodies  exposed  in  the  \ 

hill  near  Gibeah.  i 

The  transaction  has  a  very  hard  look  to  us,  though 
it  had  nothing  of  the  kind  to  the  people  of  those  days. 

Why  should   these  unfortunate   men    be    punished   so  ; 

terribly  for  the  sin  of  their  father  ?     How  was  it  pos-  \ 

sible  for  David,  in  cold  blood,  to  give  them  up  to  an  | 

ignominious   death  ?     iJjQ^..,jca«ld    he\  steel    his    heart  \ 

against    the    supplications   of    their    friends  ?\    Wth  \ 

regard  to  ^his  latter  aspect  of  the  case,  it  is  ridiculous  | 

to  cist   reproach    on    David.     As  w^e    have    remarked  | 

again   and   again,  if  he   had   acted   like  other   Eastern  | 

kings,   he   would    have    consigned    every   son  of  Saul  \ 

to  destruction  when   he  came  to  the  throne,  and   left  \ 


not  one  remaining,  for  no  other  offence  than  being  the 
children  of  their  father.     On  the  score  of  clemency  to 
Saul's    family  the   character   of  David   is    abundantly 
vindicated. 
>— ^    The  question  of  justice  remains.     Is  it  not  a  law  of 


*  Lectures  on  the  Old  TestamenL     Lecture  V. :  "  Visitation  of  Sins 


I, 

xxi.  I -14.]                             THE  FAMINE.                                      333  \ 

nature,  it  may  be  asked,  and  a  law  of  the  Bible  too,  \ 

that  the  son  shall  not  bear  the  iniquity  of  the  father,  \ 

but    that   the    soul    that   sinneth   it    shall    die?     It   is  i 

undoubtedly  the  rule  both  of  nature  and  the  Bible  that  | 

the  son  is  not   to  be  substituted  for  the  father  when  I 

the    father    is    there    to   bear    the    penalty.     But    it  is  \ 

neither  the  rule  of  the  one  nor  of  the  other  that  the  son  \ 

is  never  to  suffer  with  the  father  for  the  sins  which  the  \ 
father  has  committed.     On  the  contrary,  it  is  what  we 
see  taking  place,  in  many  forms,  every  day.     It  is  an 
arrangement    of    Providence    that    almost    bafQes    the 

philanthropist,    who    sees    that    children    often    inherit  \ 

from  their  parents  a  physical  frame  disposing  them  to  \ 

their  parents'  vices,  and  who  sees,  moreover,  that,  when  | 

brought  up   by  vicious  parents,  children  are  deprived  | 

of  their  natural  rights,  and  are  initiated  into  a  life  of  | 

vice.     But  the  law  that  identified  children  and  parents  \ 

in  Old  Testament  times  was  carried  out  to  consequences  | 

which  would    not    be    tolerated  now.     Not    only  were  { 

children  often  punished  because  of  their  physical  con-  ;, 

nection  with  their  fathers,  but  they  were  regarded  as  i 

judicially  one  with  them,  and  so  liable  to  share  in  their  \ 

punishment. /The   Old  Testament   (as  Canon  Mozley  | 

has  so  powerfully  shown  *)  was  in  some  respects  an  im-  | 

perfect  economy  ;  the  rights  of  the  individual  were  not  | 

so  clearly  acknowledged  as  they  are  under  the  New  ;  the  | 

family  was  a  sort  of  moral  unit,  and  the  father,  was  the  I 

responsible  agent  for  the  whole.     When  Achan  sinned,  J 

his    whole    household    shared    his    punishment.      The  \ 

solidarity  of  the  family  was  such  that  all  were  involved  1 

in  the  sin  of  the  father.     However  strange  it  may  seem  | 

to  us,  it  did  not  appear  at  all  strange  in  David's  time  ! 


of  Fathers  on  Children. "  | 


334  TBE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

that   this  rule  should  be  applied  in  the  case  of   Saul. 
On    the    contrary,  it  would  probably  be    thought  that 
it  showed  considerable  moderation    of  feeling    not    to 
demand  the  death  of  the  whole  living  posterity  of  Saul, 
but   to    limit    the    demand    to    the    number   of    seven. 
Doubtless  the  Gibeonites  had  suffered  to  an  enormous*^ 
extent.     Thousands  upon  thousands  of  them  had  pro-      j 
bably  been  slain.     People  might  be  sorry  for  the  seven       ' 
young  men  that  had  to  die,  but  that  there  was  any- 
thing essentially  unjust  or  even  harsh  in  the  transaction 
is  a  view  of  the    case    that  would    occur  to   no   one.       \ 
Justice  is  often  hard ;  executions  are  always  grim  ;  but      1. 
here  was  a  nation  that  had  already  experienced  three       ' 
years  of   famine   for  the  sin  of  Saul,  and  that  would 
experience  yet  far  more  if  no  public  expiation  should      ] 
take  place ;  and  seven  men  were  not  very  many  to  die 
for  a  nation^ 

The  grimness  of  the  mode  of  punishment  was  j 
softened  by  an  incident  of  great  moral  beauty,  which  [} 
cannot  but  touch  the  heart  of  every  man  of  sensibility.  | 
Rizpah,  the  concubine  of  Saul,  and  mother  of  two  of  .' 
the  victims,  combining  the  tenderness  of  a  mother  and  j 
the  courage  of  a  hero,  took  her  position  beside  the  1 
gibbet ;  and,  undeterred  by  the  sight  of  the  rotting  j' 
bodies  and  the  stench  of  the  air,  she  suffered  neither  | 
the  birds  of  the  air  to  rest  on  them  by  day  nor  the  I 
beasts  of  the  field  by  night.  The  poor  woman  must  | 
have  looked  for  a  very  different  destiny  when  she  be-  | 
came  the  concubine  of  Saul.  No  doubt  she  expected  \ 
to  share  in  the  glory  of  his  royal  state.  But  her  lord  [ 
perished  in  battle,  and  the  splendour  of  royalty  passed  ' 
for  ever  from  him  and  his  house.  Then  came  the  \ 
famine ;  its  cause  was  declared  from  heaven,  its  cure 
was  announced  by  the  Gibeonites.     Her  two  sons  were       •' 


xxi.i-i4.]  THE  FAMINE.  335  [ 

among   the   slain.     Probably  they  were   but   lads,   not  \ 

yet  beyond   the    age  which   rouses  a   mother's    sensi-  1 

bilities  to  the  full.     (This  consideration  likewise  points  \ 

to  an  early  date.)     We  cannot  attempt  to  picture  her  I 

feelings.     The  last  consolation  that  remained   for  her  \ 

was  to  guard  their  remains  from  the  vulture  and  the  I 

tiger.     Unburied  corpses  were  counted  to  be  disgraced,  \ 

and  this,  in  some  degree,  because  they  were  liable  to  | 

be  devoured   by  birds   and    beasts    of   prey.      Rizpah  j 

could  not  prevent  the  exposure,  Hut  she  could  try  to  i 

prevent  the  wild  animals  from  devouriug  them.     The 
courage    and    self-denial  needed    for    this    work    were  | 

great,  for   the  risk  of  violence  from  wild   beasts  was  t 

very  serious.     All  honour  to  this  woman  and  her" noble  i 

heart  !     David  appears  to  have  been  deeply  impressed  | 

by  her  heroism.     When  he  heard  of  it  he  went  and  \ 

collected   the   bones  of  Jonathan  and  his  sons,  which  \ 

had   been   buried   under  a  tree   at  Jabesh-gilead,   and  \ 

Hkewise  the  bones  of  the  men  that  had  been  hanged ;  i 

and    he   buried    the    bones    of  Saul    and  Jonathan   in  { 

Zelah,   in  the  sepulchre  of   Kish,  Saul's  father.     And  I 

after  that  God  was  entreated  for  the   land.  < 

^/We  offer  a  concluding  remark,  founded  on  the  tone  ^ 

of  this  narrative.     It  is  marked,  as   every  one   must  ;: 

perceive,  by  a  subdued,  solemn  tone.     Whatever  may  | 

be  the  opinion  of  our  time  as  to  the  need  of  apologizing  | 

for  it,  it  is  evident  that  no  apology  was  deemed  neces-  | 

sary  for   the   transaction  at   the  time  this  record  was  | 

written.     The  feeling  of  all  parties  evidently  was,  that  \ 

it  was  indispensable  that  things  should  take  the  course  j" 

they  did.     No  one  expressed  wonder  when  the  famine  i 

was    accounted    for    by   the    crime    of  Saul.     No    one  ! 

objected  when  the  question  of  expiation  was  referred  1 

to  the  Gibeonites.     The  house  of  Saul  made  no  protest 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


when  seven  of  his  sons  were  demanded  for  death. 
The  men  themselves,  when  they  knew  what  was 
coming,  seem  to  have  been  restrained  from  attempt- 
ing to  save  themselves  by  flight.  It  seemed  as  if  God 
were  speaking,  and  the  part  of  man  was  simply  to 
obey.  When  unbelievers  object  to  passages  in  the 
Bible  like  this,  or  like  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac,  or  the 
death  of  Achan,  they  are  accustomed  to  say  that  they 
exempHfy  the  worst  passions  of  the  human  heart 
consecrated  under  the  name  of  religion.  We  afhrm 
that  in  this  chapter  there  is  no  sign  of  any  outburst 
of  passion  whatever;  everything  is  done  with  gravity, 
with  composure  and  solemnity.  And,  what  is  more, 
the  graceful  piety  of  Rizpah  is  recorded,  with  simpH- 
city,  indeed,  but  in  a  tone  that  indicates  appreciation 
of  her  tender  motherly  soul.  Savages  thirsting  for 
blood  are  not  in  the  habit  of  appreciating  such  touch- 
ing marks  of  affection.  And  further,  we  are  made  to 
feel  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  David  to  pay  that  mark 
of  respect  for  Rizpah's  feelings  in  having  the  men 
buried.  He  did  not  desire  to  lacerate  the  feelings  of 
the  unhappy  mother;  he  was  glad  to  soothe  them  as 
far  as  he  could.  To  him,  as  to  his  Lord,  judgment 
was  a  strange  work,  but  he  delighted  in  mercy.  And 
he  was  glad  to  be  able  to  mingle  a  slight  streak  cf 
mercy  with  the  dark  colours  of  a  picture  of  God's  judg- 
ment on  sinTj 

To  all  rigiit  minds  it  is  painful  to  punish,  and  when 
punishment  has  to  be  inflicted  it  is  felt  that  it  ought  to 
be  done  with  great  solemnity  and  gravity,  and  with  an 
entire  absence  of  passion  and  excitement.  In  a  sinful 
world  God  too  must  inflict  punishment.  And  the 
future  punishment  of  the  wicked  is  the  darkest  thing 


in  all  the  scheme  of  God's  government,     But  it  must         j 


xxi.  I-I4.]  THE  FAMINE.  337  I 

take  place.     And  when  it   does  take   place  it  will  be  j 

done  deliberately,  solemnly,  sadly.     There  will  be  no  ; 

exasperation,  no  excitement.    There  will  be  no  disregard  ;; 

of  the  feelings  of  the  unhappy  victims  of  the  Divine  I 

retribution.     What  they  are  able  to  bear  will  be  well  I 

considered.     What   condition  they  shall    be  placed   in  I 

when  the  punishment  comes,  will  be  calmly  weighed.  | 

But  may  we  not  see  what  a  distressing  thing  it  will  be  | 

(if  we  may  use  such  an  expression  with  reference  to  | 

God)  to  consign  His  creatures  to  punishment  ?     How  t 

different  His  feelings  when  He  welcomes  them  to  eternal  | 

glory  !     How  different  the  feelings  of  His  angels  when  \ 

that  change  takes  place  by  which  punishment  ceases  to  ^^ 

hang  over  men,  and  glory  takes  its  place  !     ''  There  is  ! 

joy  in  the  presence  of  the  angels  of  God  over  one  sinner  \ 

that  repenteth."     Is  it  not  blessed  to  think  that  this  is  | 

the  feeling  of  God,  and  of  all  Godlike  spirits  ?     Will  | 

you  not  all  believe  this, — believe  in  the  mercy  of  God,  I 

and  accept  the  provision  of  His  grace  ?     "  For  God  so  \ 

loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His  only-begotten  Son,  r 

that  whosoever   beHeveth   on  Him  should  not  perish,  j 

but  should  have  eternal  life."  \ 


VOL.  II.  23 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

i 
LAST  BA  TTLES  AND    THE  MIGHTY  MEN,  \ 

2  Samuel  xxi.  15 — 22  ;  xxiii.  8 — 39. 

IN  entering  on  the  consideration  of  these  two  portions 
of  the  history  of  David,  we  must  first  observe  that         \ 
the    events    recorded   do  not  appear  to  belong  to   the 
concluding  portion  of  his  reign.     It  is  impossible  for         j 
us    to  assign  a  precise    date    to  them,    or    at  least  to  j 

most  of  them,  but  the  displays  of  physical  activity  and  \ 

courage  which  they    record  would   lead  us   to  ascribe  " 

them  to  a  much  earlier  period.  Originally,  they  seem 
to  have  formed  parts  of  a  record  of  David's  wars,  and 
to    have    been    transferred   to    the    Books    of    Samuel  .; 

and  Chronicles  in  order  to  give  a  measure  of  complete-  j 

ness  to  the  narrative.  The  narrative  in  Chronicles  is 
substantially  the  same  as  that  in  Samuel,  but  the  text 
is  purer.  From  notes  of  time  in  Chronicles  it  is  seen 
that  some  at  least  of  the  encounters  took  place  after 
the  war  with  the  children  of  Ammon. 

^^^Why    have    these    passages    been     inserted    in    the  \ 

history  of  the  reign  of  David  ?  Apparently  for  two 
chief  purposes.  In  the  first  place,  to  give  us  some 
idea  of  the  dangers  to  which  he  was  exposed  in  his 
military  life,  dangers  manifold  and  sometimes  over- 
whelming, and  all  but  fatal ;  and  thus  enable  us  to  see 
how   wonderful  were  the  deliverances  he  experienced. 


xxi.  15-22;  xxiii.8-j9]      LAST  BATTLES.  339 


and  prepare  us  for  entering  into  the  song  of  thanks-  I 

giving  which  forms  the  twenty-second  chapter,  and  of  I 
which  these  deliverances  form  the  burden.  In  the  ^ 
second  place,  to   enable  us  to  understand   the  human  | 

instrumentality  by  which  he  achieved  so  brilliant  a  j 
success,  the  kind  of  men  by  whom  he  was  helped,  \ 
the  kind  of  spirit  by  which  they  were  animated,  and  \ 
t'.ieir  intense  personal  devotion  to  David  himselfT)  The  | 
former  purpose  is  that  which  is  chiefly  in  view  in  the  | 
end  of  the  twenty-first  chapter,  the  latter  in  the  j 
twenty-third.  The  exploits  themselves  occur  in  en-  | 
counters  with  the  Philistines,  and  may  therefore  be  \ 
referred  partly  to  the  time  after  the  slaughter  of  [ 
Goliath,  when  he  first  distinguished  himself  in  war-  I 
fare,  and  the  daughters  of  Israel  began  to  sing,  ''  Saul  | 
hath  slain  his  thousands,  but  David  his  tens  of  thou-  \ 
sands ;  "  partly  to  the  time  in  his  early  reign  when  \ 
he  was  engaged  driving  them  out  of  Israel,  and  put-  \ 
ting  a  bridle  on  them  to  restrain  their  inroads  ;  and  \ 
partly  to  a  still  later  period.  It  is  to  be  observed  \ 
that  nothing  more  is  sought  than  to  give  a  sample  | 
of  David's  military  adventures,  and  for  this  purpose  .- 
his  wars  with  the  Philistines  alone  are  examined.  If  J 
the  like  method  had  been  taken  with  all  his  other  cam-  | 
paigns, — against  Edom,  Moab,  and  Ammon ;  against  | 
the  Syrians  of  Rehob,  and  Maacah,  and  Damascus,  | 
and  the  Syrians  beyond  the  river, — we  might  borrow  | 
the  language  of  the  Evangelist,  and  say  that  the  world  | 
itself  would  not  have  been  able  to  contain  the  books  \ 
that  should  be  written.  I 

Four  exploits  are  recorded  in  the  closing  verses  of 
the  twenty-first  chapter,  all  with  ''sons  of  the  giant," 
or,  as  it  is  in  the  margin,  of  Kapha.  The  first  was  with 
a  man  who  is  called  Ishbi-benob,  but  there  is  reason  to 


340  THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  ! 

suspect  that  the  text  is  corrupt  here,  and  in  Chronicles         i 
this  incident  is  not  mentioned.     The  language  applied         ■ 
to  David,   '^  David  and  his  servants  went  down,"  would         j 
lead  us    to  believe    that  the    incident  happened  at  an 
early  period,  when  the  Philistines  were  very  powerful 
in  Israel,  and  it  was  a  mark  of  great  courage  to   '^  go 
down"  to  their  plains,  and  attack  them  in  their  own  I 

country.     To  do  this  implied  a  long  journey,  over  steep         | 
and  rough  roads,  and  it  is  no  wonder  if  between  the  ! 

journey  and  the  fighting  David  ''waxed  faint."     Then  j 

it  was  that  the  son  of  the  giant,  whose  spear  or  spear-  j 

head  weighed  three  hundred  shekels  of  brass,  or  about  j 

eight  pounds,   fell  upon  him   "  with  a  new  sword,  and  I 

thought  to  have  slain  him."     There  is  no  noun  in  the  \ 

original  for  sword  ;  all  that  is  said  is,  that  the  giant  fell 
on  David  with  something  new,  and  our  translators  have 
made  it  a  sword.  The  Revised  Version  in  the  margin 
gives  ''  new  armour."  The  point  is  evidently  this,  that 
the  newness  of  the  thing  made  it  more  formidable. 
This  could  hardly  be  said  of  a  common  sword,  which 
would  be  really  more  formidable  after  it  had  ceased  to  ; 

be  quite  new,  since,  by  having  used  it,  the  owner  would  1 

know  it   better  and  wield  it  more  perfectly.     It  seems  [ 

better  to  take  the  marginal  reading  *'  new  armour,"  that  |. 

is,    new    defensive    armour,    against   which  the   weary  | 

David  would  direct  his  blows  in  vain.      Evidently  he  | 

was  in  the  utmost  peril  of  his  life,  but  was   rescued  | 

by  his   nephew   Abishai,  who   killed    the  giant.     The  s 

risk   to   which    he    was    exposed    was    such    that    his  \ 

people   vowed    they  would    not    let    him   go    out    with  \ 

them    to    battle    any    more,    lest    the    light   of    Israel  j 

should  be  quenched.  ] 

During  the  rest  of  that  campaign  the  vow  seems  to  j 

have  been  respected,  for  the  other  three  giants  were  ] 


xxi.  15-22 ;xxiii.  8-39-]      LAST  BATTLES.  341  \ 

! 

not  slain  by  David  personally,  but  by  others.     As  to  \ 

other  campaigns,   David  usually  took  his  old  place  as  \ 

leader  of  the  army,  until  the  battle  against  Absalom,  \ 

when  his  people  prevailed  on  him  to  remain  in  the  city.  | 

Three  of  the  four  duels  recorded  here  took  place  at  % 

Gob, — a  place  not  now  known,  but  most  probably  in  % 

the  neighbourhood  of  Gath.     In  fact,  all  the  encounters  \ 

probably  took  place  near  that  city.     One  of  the  giants  \ 

slain  is  said  in  Samuel,  by  a  manifest  error,  to  have  [ 

been  Goliath  the  Gittite ;  but  the  error  is  corrected  in  1 

Chronicles,  where  he  is  called  the  brother  of  Goliath.  j 

The  very  same  expression  is  used  of  his  spear  as  in  | 

the  case  of  Goliath ;  '*  the  staff  of  whose  spear  was  like  \ 

a  weaver's  beam."     Of  the  fourth  giant  it  is  said  that  | 

he  defied  Israel,  as  Goliath  had  done.     Of  the  whole  | 

four  it  is  said  that  "  they  w^ere  born   to  the  giant  in  jj 

Gath."      This    does    not    necessarily    imply    that    they  \^ 

were  all  sons  of  the  same  father,  "  the  giant "  being  f 

used   generically  to   denote  the  race  rather  than   the  ■ 

individual.  I 

""^^ut    the    tenor   of  the    narrative   and    many  of  its  ■ 

expressions  carry  us  back  to  the  early  days  of  David.  .\ 

There  seems  to-  have  been  a  nest  at  Gath  of  men  of  \ 

gigantic  stature,  brothers  or  near  relations  of  Goliath.  | 

Against    these    he  was    sent,   perhaps    in    one    of   the  | 

expeditions  when  Saul  secretly  desired  that  he  should  | 

fall  by  the  hand  of  the  Philistines.  If  it  was  in  this  | 
way  that  he  came  to  encounter  the  first  of  the  four, 
Saul  had  calculated  well,  and  was  very  nearly  carry- 
ing his  point.  But  though  man  proposes,  God  dis- 
poses. The  example  of  David  in  his  encounter  with 
Goliath,  even  at  this  early  period,  had  inspired  several 
young  men  of  the  Hebrews,  and  even  when  David  was 
interdicted  from  going  himself  into  battle,  others  were 


342  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

raised  up  to  take  his  place.  Every  one  of  the  giants  I 
found  a  match  either  in  David  or  among  his  men.  It  j 
was  indeed  highly  perilous  v^ork ;  but  David  was  en-  - 
compassed  by  a  Divine  Protector,  and  being  destined  j 
for  high  service  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  he  was  ''  im-  \ 
mortal  till  his  work  was  done."  \ 

(  We  have  said  that  these  were  but  samples  of  David's  j 
trials,  and  that  they  were  probabl}^  repeated  again  and  j 
again   in   the   course   of  the   many  wars  in  which   he  \ 

was  enggaed.     One  can  see  that  the  danger  was  often  , 

very  imminent,  making  him  feel  that  his  only  possible  ! 

deliverance  must  come  from  God.  Such  dangers, 
therefore,    were    wonoerfully    fitted    to    exercise    and  ' 

discipline  the  spirit  of  trust.  Not  once  or  twice,  but 
hundreds  of  times,  in  his  early  experience  he  would 
find  himself  constrained  to  cry  to  the  Lord.  And 
protected  as  he  was,  delivered  as  he  was,  the  convic- 
tion would  become  stronger  and  stronger  that  God 
cared  for  him  and  would  deliver  him  to  the  end.  j  We 
see  from  all  this  how  unnecessary  it  is  to  ascribe  all 
the  psalms  where  David  is  pressed  by  enemies  either 
to  the  time  of  Saul  or  to  the  time  of  Absalom.  There 
were  hundreds  of  other  times  in  his  life  when  he  had 
the  same  experience,  when  he  was  reduced  to  similar 
straits,  and  his  appeal  lay  to  the  God  of  his  life. 

And  this  was  in  truth  the  healthiest  period  of  his 
spiritual  life.  It  was  amid  these  perilous  but  bracing 
experiences  that  his  soul  prospered  most.  The  north 
wind  of  danger  and  difficulty  braced  him  to  spiritual 
self-  denial  and  endurance  ;  the  south  wind  of  prosperity 
and  luxurious  enjoyment  was  what  nearly  destroyed 
him.  Let  us  not  become  impatient  when  anxieties 
multiply  around  us,  and  we  are  beset  by  troubles, 
and    labours,    and    difficulties.      Do   not    be    tempted 


xxi.  15-22  ;  xxiii.  8-39.]      LAST  BA  TTLES. 


to    contrast    your   miserable    lot    with    that    of  others,  f 

who    have    health    while    you    are    sick,    riches    while  ?. 

you    are  poor,   honour  while   you    are    despised,    ease  \ 

and  enjoyment  while  you  have  care  and  sorrow.     By  | 

all    these   things    God  desires   to   draw   you   to    Him-  | 

self,  to   discipline   your  soul,  to   lead   you   away  from  I 

the    broken    cisterns    that   can    hold    no  water   to   the  \ 

fountain  of  living  waters.     Guard  earnestly  against  the  | 

unbelief  that  at  such   times  would   make  your  hands  j 

hang  down  and  your  heart  despond  ;  rally  your  sink-  \ 

ing  spirit.     "  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul,  and  | 

why  art  thou  disquieted  within  me  ?  "     Remember  the  \ 

promise,   "  I  will  never  leave  you   nor  forsake  you  ;  "  [ 

and   one   day   you    shall    have  cause  to   look  back  on  J. 

this  as  the  most  useful,  the  most  profitable,  the  most  \ 

healthful,  period  of  your  spiritual  life.  f 

We  pass  to  the  twenty-third  chapter,  which  tells  us  \ 

of  David's  mighty  men.    The  narrative,  at  some  points,  \ 

is  not  very  clear;    but  we  gather  from  it  that  David  \ 

had   an   order    of  thirty    men    distinguished    for    their  1 

valour;  that  besides  these  there  were  three  of  super-  ! 

eminent    merit,    and    another    three,    who    were    also  \ 

eminent,  but  who  did  not  attain  to  the  distinction  of  the  \ 

first  three.     Of  the  first  three,  the  first  was  Jashobeam  | 

the    Hachmonite    (see    I    Chron.    xi.    1 1),    the    second  % 

Eleazar,  and  the  third  Shammah.     Of  the  second  three,  | 

who  were  not   quite  equal  to   the   first,  only  two  are  I 

mentioned,  Abishai  and  Benaiah  ;    thereafter  we  have  | 

the  names  of  the  thirty.     It  is  remarkable  that  Joab's  | 

name  does  not  occur  in  the  list,  but  as  he  was  captain 
of  the  host,  he  probably  held  a  higher  position  than 
any.  Certainly  Joab  was  not  wanting  in  valour,  and 
must  have  held  the  highest  rank  in  a  legion  of  honour. 

Of  the  three  mighties  of  the  first  rank,  and  the  two         \ 

\ 


344 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


of  the  second,  characteristic  exploits  of  remarkable 
courage  and  success  are  recorded.  The  first  of  the 
first  rank,  whom  the  Chronicles  call  Jashobeam,  lifted 
up  his  spear  against  three  hundred  slain  at  one  time. 
(In  Samuel  the  number  is  eight  hurdred.)  The  exploit 
was  worthy  to  be  ranked  with  the  famous  achievement 
of  Jonathan  and  his  armour-bearer  at  the  pass  of 
Michmash.  The  second,  Eleazar,  defied  the  Philistines 
when  they  were  gathered  to  battle,  and  when  the  men 
of  Israel  had  gone  away  he  smote  the  Philistines  till 
his  hand  was  weary.  The  third,  Shammah,  kept  the 
Philistines  at  bay  on  a  piece  of  ground  covered  with 
lentils,  after  the  people  had  fled,  and  slew  the  Philis- 
tines, gaining  a  great  victory. 

Next  we  have  a  description  of  the  exploit  of  three  of 
the  mighty  men  when,  the  Philistines  were  in  possession 
of  Bethlehem,  and  David  in  a  hold  near  the  cave  of 
Adullam  (see  2  Sam.  v.  15-21).  The  occasion  of  their 
exploit  was  an  interesting  one.  Contemplating  the 
situation,  and  grieved  to  think  that  his  native  town 
should  be  in  the  enemy's  hands,  David  gave  expression 
to  a  wish — "  Oh  that  some  one  would  give  me  water  to 
drink  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem  which  is  before  the 
gate  ! "  It  was  probably  meant  for  little  more  than  the 
expression  of  an  earnest  wish  that  the  enemy  were 
dislodged  from  their  position — that  there  were  no 
obstruction  between  him  and  the  well,  that  access  to  it 
were  as  free  as  in  the  days  of  his  youth.  But  the  three 
mighty  men  took  him  at  his  word,  and  breaking 
through  the  host  of  the  Philistines,  brought  the  water 
to  David.  It  was  a  singulai  proof  of  his  great  personal 
influence;  he  was  so  loved  .and  honoured  that  to 
gratify  his  wish  these  three  men  took  their  lives  in 
their  hands  to  obtain  the  water.     Water  got  at  such  a 


xxi.  15-22;  xxiii. 8-39-]         LAST  BATTLES.  345 


cost  was  sacred  in  his  eyes  ;  it  was  a  thing  too  holy  \ 

for  man  to  turn  to  his  use,  so  he  poured  it  out  before  \ 

the  Lord.  | 

Next  we  have  a  statement  bearing  on   two   of  the  i 

second  three.     Abishai,  David's  nephew,  who  was  one  | 

of  them,  Hfted  up  his  spear  against  three  hundred  and  | 

slew  them.     Benaiah,  son  of  Jehoiada,  slew  two  lion-like  \ 

men  of  Moab  (the  two  sons  of  Ariel  of  Moab,  R.V.) ;  \ 

also,  in  time  of  snow,  he  slew  a  lion  in  a  pit;  and  finally  1 

he  slew  an  Egyptian,  a  powerful  man,  attacking  him  | 

when  he  had  only  a  staff  in  his  hand,  wrenching  his  1 

spear  from  him,    and  killing  him  with  his  own  spear.  1 

The  third  of  this  trio  has  not  been  mentioned;  some 
conjecture  that  he  was  Amasa  ("chief  of  the  captains  " 
— ''the  thirty/'  R.V.,  i  Chron.  xii.  18),  and  that  his 
name  was  not  recorded  because  he  deserted  David  to 
side  with  Absalom.  Amojig  the  other  thirty,  we  cannot 
but    be    struck   with    two    names — Eliam    the  son   of  I 

Ahithophel  the  Gilonite,  and  apparently  the  father  of  \ 

Bathsheba ;  and  Uriah  the  Hittite.  The  sin  of  David 
was   all   the  "greater   if  it  involved  the   dishonour  of  \. 

men  who  had  served  him  so  bravely  as  to  be  enrolled  I" 

in  his  legion  of  honour.  | 

With  regard  to  the  kind  of  exploits  ascribed  to  some  | 

of  these    men,   a  remark   is  necessary.     There  is   an  | 

appearance  of  exaggeration  in  statements  that  ascribe  I 

to  a  single  warrior  the  routing  and  killing  of  hundreds  | 

through  his  single  sword  or  spear.     In  the  eyes  of  some  I 

such  statements  give  the  narrative  an  unreliable  look,  \ 

as  if  the  object  of  the  writer  had  been  more  to  give  eclat  \ 

to  the  warriors  than  to  record  the  simple  truth.     But  I 

this  impression  arises  from  our  tendency  to  ascribe  the  j 

conditions  of  modern  warfare  to  the  warfare  of  these  \ 

times.     In   Eastern  history,  cases   of  a  single  warrior  \ 


346  TKE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL,  ' 

putting  a  large  number  to  flight,  and  even  killing  them,       i 
are  not  uncommon.     For  though  the  strength  of  the      j 
whole  number  was  far  more  than  a  match  for  his,  the      ) 
strength  of  each  individual  was  far  inferior;  and  if  the 
mass  of  them  were  scarcely  armed,  and  the  few  who 
had  arms  were  far  inferior  to  him,  the  result  would  be       i 
that  after  some  had  fallen  the  rest  would  take  to  flight ;       | 
and  the   destruction    of  life    in   a  retreat  was    always       j 
enormous.     The  incident  recorded  of  Eleazar  is  very       ■ 
graphic    and    truth-like.      "  He    smote    the    Philistines 
until  his  hand  was  weary,  and  his  hand  clave  unto  his       I 
sword."     A  Highland  sergeant  at  Waterloo  had  done 
such  execution  with  his  basket-handled  sword,  and  so       ' 
much  blood  had  coagulated  round  his  hand,  that  it  had        ! 
to   be  released   by  a  blacksmith,  so   firmly  were  they        j 
glued  together.    The  style  of  Eastern  warfare  was  highly        | 
favourable   to  deeds   of  great  courage   being   done  by        I 
individuals,    and    in   the  terrific   panic   which   followed        i 
their  first  successes  prodigious  slaughter  often  ensued.        {.• 
Under  present  conditions  of  fighting  such  things  cannot        j 
be  done.  • 

The  glimpse  which  these  little  notices  give  us  of  King  \ 
David  and  his  knights  is  extremely  interesting.  The  \ 
story  of  Arthur  and  his  Knights  of  the  Round  Table  \ 
bears  a  resemblance  to  it.  We  see  the  remarkable  per-  | 
sonal  influence  of  David,  drawing  to  himself  so  many  | 
men  of  spirit  and  energy,  firing  them  by  his  own  | 
example,  securing  their  warm  personal  attachment,  and  \ 
engaging  them  in  enterprises  equal  to  his  own.  How  | 
far  they  shared  his  devotional  spirit  we  have  no  means  | 
of  judging.  If  the  historian  reflects  the  general  senti-  ! 
ment  in  recording  their  victories  when  he  says,  once  ; 
and  again,  ''The  Lord  wrought  a  great  victory  that  | 
day"  (xxiii.  lO,   12),  we  should  say  that  trust  in  God         -; 


xxi.  15-22  ;xxiii.  8-39-]      LAST  BATTLES.  .  347  I 

must  have  been  the  general  sentiment.      "  If  it  had  not  I 

been   the  Lord   that  was   on  our  side,   .  .   .  they  had  ! 

swallowed  us  up  quick,  when  their  wrath  was  kindled  \ 

against  us."     It  is  no  wonder  that  David  soon  gained  a  | 

great  military  renown.     Such  a  king,  surrounded  by  such  | 

a  class  of  lieutenants,  might  well  spread  alarm  among  | 

all  his  enemies.     One  who,  besides  having  such  a  body  | 

of  helpers,  could  claim  the  assistance  of  the  Lord  of 
hosts,  and  could  enter  battle  with  the  shout,  ''Let  God 
arise ;  and  let  His  enemies  be  scattered  ;  and  let  them 
also  that  hate  Him  flee  before  Him,"  might  well  look 
for  universal   victory.     Trustworthy  generals,   we  are  j 

told,  double  the  value  of  the  troops  ;  and  the  soldiers  that  | 

were  led  by  such  leaders,  trusting  in  the  Lord  of  hosts,  \ 

could  hardly  fail  of  triumph.  \ 

And  thus,  too,  we  may  see  how  David  came  to   be  \ 

thoroughly  under  the  influence  of  the  military  spirit,  \ 

and  of  some  of  the  less  favourable  features  of  that 
spirit.  Accustomed  to  such  scenes  of  bloodshed,  he 
would  come  to  think  hghtly  of  the  lives  of  his  enemies. 
A  hostile  army  he  would  be  prone  to  regard  as  a  kind  of 
infernal  machine,  an  instrument  of  evil  only,  and  there- 
fore to  be  destroyed.  Hence  the  complacency  he  ex- 
presses in  the  destruction  of  his  enemies.  Hence  the 
judgment  he  calls  down  on  those  who  thwarted  and 
opposed  him.  If,  in  the  songs  of  David,  this  feeHng 
sometimes  disappears,  and  the  expressed  desire  of  his 
heart  is  that  the  nations  may  be  glad  and  sing  for  joy, 
that  the  people  may  praise  God,  that  all  the  people  may 
praise  Him,  this  seems  to  be  in  the  later  period  of  his 
life,  when  all  his  enem.ies  had  been  subdued,  and  he 
had  rest  on  every  side.  Even  in  earnest  and  spiritually- 
minded  men,  religion  is  often  coloured  by  their  worldly 
caUing;  and  in  no  case  more  so,  sometimes  for  better 

i 
I 


34S  THE   SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAHJUEL. 

and  sometimes  for  worse,  than  in  those  who  follow  the 
profession  of  arms. 

But  in  all  this  military  career  and  influence  of  David, 
may  we  not  trace  a  type  of  character  which  was 
realised  in  a  far  higher  sphere,  and  to  far  grander  pur- 
pose, in  the  career  of  Jesus,  David's  Son  ?  David  on  an 
earthly  level  is  Jesus  on  a  higher.  Every  noble  quality 
of  David,  his  courage,  his  activity,  his  affection,  his 
obedience  and  trust  toward  God,  his  devotion  to  the 
welfare  of  others,  reappears  purer  and  higher  in  Jesus. 
If  David  is  surrounded  by  his  thirty  mighties  and  his 
two  threes,  so  is  Jesus  by  His  twelve  apostles.  His 
seventy  disciples,  and  pre-eminently  the  three  apostles 
who  went  with  Him  into  the  innerm.ost  scenes.  If 
David's  men  are  roused  by  his  example  to  deeds  of 
daring  like  his  own,  so  the  apostles  and  disciples  go 
into  the  world  to  teach,  to  fight,  to  heal,  and  to  bless, 
as  Christ  had  done  before  them.  Looking  back  from 
the  present  m.oment  to  David's  time,  what  young  man 
of  spirit  but  feels  that  it  would  have  been  a  great  joy  to 
belong  to  his  company,  much  better  than  to  be  among 
those  who  were  always  carping  and  criticising,  and 
laughing  at  the  men  who  shared  his  danger  and  sacri- 
fices ?  And  does  any  one  think  that,  when  another 
cycle  of  ages  has  gone  past,  he  will  have  occasicn  to 
congratulate  himself  that  while  he  lived  on  earth  he 
had  nothing  to  do  with  Christ  and  earnest  Christians, 
that  he  bore  no  part  in  any  Christian  battle,  that  he 
kept  well  away  from  Christ  and  His  staff,  that  he  pre- 
ferred the  service  and  pleasure  of  the  world  ?  Surely 
no.  Shall  any  of  us,  then,  deliberately  do  to-day  what 
we  know  we  shall  repent  to-morrow  ?  Is  it  not  certain 
that  Jesus  Christ  is  an  unrivalled  Comimander,  pure  and 
noble  above  all  His  fellows,  that  His  life  was  the  most 


xxi.  15-22;  xxiii.  8-39]      LAST  BATTLES.                                    349  > 

glorious  ever  led  on  earth,  and  that  His  service  is  by  \ 

far  the  most  honourable  ?      We  do  not  dwell  at  this  \ 

moment  on  the  great  fact  that  only  in  His  faith  and  a 

fellowship  can  any  of  us  escape  the  wrath  to  come,  or  \ 

gain  the  favour  of  God.      We  ask  you  to  say  in  what  i 

company  you  can  spend  your  lives  to  most  profit,  under  | 

whose  influence  you  may  receive  the  highest  impulses,  f 

and  be  made  to  do  the  best  service  for  God  and  man  ?  \ 

It  must  have  been  interesting  in  David's  time  to  see  his  [ 

people  "willing  in  the  day  of  his  power,"  to  see  young  i 

men  flocking  to  his  standard  in  the  beauties  of  holiness,  I 

like  dewdrops  from  the  womb  of  the  morning.     And  | 

still  more  glorious  is  the  sight  when  young  men,  even  \ 

the  highest   born   and   the  highest  gifted,    having  had  | 

grace  to   see  who  and   what  Jesus  Christ   is,  find  no  | 

manner   of  life   worthy    to    be    compared    in    essential  f 

dignity  and  usefulness  with  His  service,  and,  in  spite  of  I 

the  world,  give  themselves  to  Him.     Oh  that  we  could  \ 

see  many  such  rallying  to  His  standard,  contrasting,  as  f 

St.  Paul  did,  the  two  services,  and  counting  all  things  I' 

but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  [. 

Jesus  their  Lord  !  I 

I 


CHAPTER  XXX.  i 

THE  SONG  OF  THANKSGIVING,  \ 

i 

2  Samuel  xxii.  I 

! 

SOME  of  David's  actions  are  very  characteristic  of  ; 

himself;  there    are    other    actions    quite    out    of  | 
harmony  with   his  character.     This  psalm    of  thanks- 
giving belongs   to   the  former  order.     It   is  quite  like 

David;  at  the  conclusion  of  his  military  enterprises,  to  i 

cast  his  eye  gratefully  over  the  whole,  and  acknowledge  i 

the  goodness  and  mercy  that  had  followed  him  all  along.  , 

Unlike    many,    he    was    as    careful    to    thank    God  for  ' 

mercies  past  and  present  as  to  entreat  Him  for  mercies  i 

to   come.     The  whole   Book  of  Psalms  resounds  with  ■ 

halleluiahs,  especially    the  closing  part.      In  the  song  \ 

before  us  we  have  something  like  a  grand  halleluiah,  | 

in  which  thanks  are  given  for  all  the  deliverances  and  1 

s 

mercies    of   the    past,    and    unbounded   confidence  ex-  1 

pressed  in  God's  mercy  and  goodness  for  the  time  to  \ 

come.  I 

The  date  of  this  song  is  not  to  be  determined  by  the  | 

place    which    it    occupies    in    the   history.       We    have  \ 

already  seen  that  the  last  few  chapters  of  Samuel  con-  | 

sist  of  supplementary  narratives,  not  introduced  at  their  | 

regular  places,  but  needful  to  give  completeness  to  the  j 

history.      It  is  likely  that  this  psalm  was  written  con-  ! 

siderably  before  the  end  of  David's  reign.     Two  con-  | 


xxii.j  THE   SONG   OF  THANKSGIVING.  351 

siderations  make  it  all  but  certain  that  its  date  is 
earlier  than  Absalom's  rebellion.  In  the  first  place,  the 
mention  of  the  name  of  Saul  in  the  first  verse — ''in  the 
day  when  God  delivered  him  out  of  the  hand  of  all  his 
enemies  and  out  of  the  hand  of  Saul  " — would  seem  to 
imply  that    the  deliverance  from  Saul  was  somewhat  i 

recent,  certainly  not  so  remote  as  it  would  have  been  | 

at  the  end  of  David's  reign.  And  secondly,  while  the 
affirmation  of  David's  sincerity  and  honesty  in  serving 
God  might  doubtless  have  been  made  at  any  period  of 
his  life,  yet  some  of  his  expressions  would  not  have  j 

been  likely  to  be  used  after  his  deplorable  fall.     It  is  • 

not  likely  that  after  that,  he   would  have  spoken,  for  ; 

example,  of  the  cleanness  of  his  hands,  stained  as  they  [ 

had  been  by  wickedness  that  could  hardly  have  been  \ 

surpassed.     On  the  whole,  it  seems  most  likely  that  the  \ 


psalm  was  written  about  the  time  referred  to  in  2  Sam.  \ 

vii.   I — **  when  the  Lord  had  given  him  rest  from  all  f 

his  enemies  round  about."     This  was  the  time  when  it  | 

was  in  his  heart  to  build  the  temple,  and  we  know  from  | 

that   and   other   circumstances    that  he  was  then  in  a  | 

state  of  overflowing  thankfulness.  1 

Besides  the  introduction,  the  song  consists  of  three  ^• 

leading  parts  not   very  definitely  separated  from  each  \ 

other,    but    sufficiently    marked    to  form  a  convenient  | 

division,  as  follows  : —  | 

I.  Introduction  :  the  leading  thought  of  the  song,  I 
an  adoring  acknowledgment  of  what  God  had  been  and  \ 
was  to  David  (vv.  2-4).  '; 

II.  A  narrative  of  the  Divine  interpositions  on  his  j 
behalf,  embracing  his  dangers,  his  prayers,  and  the  I 
Divine  deliverances  in  reply  (vv.   5-19).  j 

III.  The  grounds  of  his  protection  and  success  | 
(vv.  20-30).  I 

i 

•■'•  '       '    •     '        •         '  i 

\ 

\ 


352  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  \ 

IV.   References  to  particular  acts  of  God's  goodness      i 
in  various  parts  of  his  life,  interspersed  with  reflections      | 
on  the  Divine  character,  from  all  which  the  assurance 
is  drawn  that  that  goodness  would  be  continued  to  him 
and  his  successors,  and  would  secure  through  coming      j 
ages  the  welfare  and  extension  of  the  kingdom.     And       i 
here  we  observe  what  is  so  common  in  the  Psalms  :  a    .  I 
gradual  rising  above  the  idea  of  a  mere  earthly  kingdom  ;       ! 
the  type  passes  into  the  antitype  ;  the  kingdom  of  David       I 
melts,  as  in  a  dissolving  view,  into  the  kingdom  of  the       « 
Messiah ;  thus  a  more  elevated   tone   is  given  to  the       | 
song,  and  the  assurance  is  conveyed  to  every  believer        i 
that  as  Gcd  protected  David  and  his  kingdom,  so  shall 
He  protect  and  glorify  the  kingdom  of  His  Son   for        | 
ever.  I 

I.  In  the  burst  of  adoring  gratitude  with  which  the  | 
psalm  opens  as  its  leading  thought,  we  mark  David's  } 
recognition  of  Jehovah  as  the  source  of  all  the  pro-  j 
tection,  deliverance,  and  success  he  had  ever  enjoyed, 
along  with  a  special  assertion  of  closest  relation- 
ship to  Him,  in  the  frequent  use  of  the  word  ''  my,"  j 
and  a  very  ardent  acknowledgment  of  the  claim  to  his  ! 
gratitude  thus  arising — "  God,  who  is  worthy  to  be  1 
praised."  I 

The  feeling  that  recognised  God  as  the  Author  of  \ 
all  his  deliverances  was  intensely  strong,  for  every  | 
expression  that  can  denote  it  is  heaped  together  :  '^  My  | 
rock,  my  portion,  my  deliverer  ;  the  God  of  my  rock,  I 

my  shield  ;  the  horn  of  my  salvation,  my  high  tower,  | 

my  refuge,  my  Saviour."  He  takes  no  credit  to 
himself;  he  gives  no  glory  to  his  captains;  the  glory 
is  all  the  Lord's.  He  sees  God  so  supremely  the 
Author  of  his  deliverance  that  the  human  instruments 
that  helped  him  are  for  the  moment  quite  out  of  view.  I 


xxii.]  THE  SONG   OF   THANKSGIVING.  353  ; 

He  who,  in  the  depths  of  his  penitence,  sees  but  one  ,; 

supremely  injured   Being,    and   says,  "  Against   Thee,  j 

Thee  only,  have  I  sinned,"  at  the  height  of  his  prosperity  I 

sees  but   one   gracious   Being,   and   adores  Him,    who  | 

only  is  his  rock  and  his  salvation.     In  an   age  when  | 

all  the  stress  is  apt  to  be  laid  on  the  human  instru-  | 

ments,  and  God  left  out  of  view,  this  habit   of  mind  f 
is    instructive    and    refreshing.       It    was    a    touching 
incident   in    English   history  when,  after  the  battle  of 
Agincourt,  Henry  V.  of  England  directed  the  hundred 

and  fifteenth  Psalm  to  be  sung  ;  prostrating  himself  on  j 

the   ground,   and  causing    his  whole    army  to    do   the  | 

same,  when  the  words  were  sounded  out,   "  Not  unto  f 

us,    O    Lord,    not   unto   us,    but    to   Thy   name   give  \ 

glory."  \ 

The    emphatic    use    of  the    pronoun   ^'my"   by   the  I 

Psalmist  is  very  instructive.     It  is   so  easy  to   speak  | 

in  general  terms  of  what  God  is,  and  what  God  does ;  [ 

but  it  is  quite  another  thing  to  be  able  to  appropriate  \ 

Him  as  ours,  and  rejoice  in  that  relation.     Luther  said  i 

of  the  twenty-third  Psalm  that  the  word  '^  my  "  in  the  \ 

first  verse  was  the  very  hinge   of  the  whole.     There  [ 

is  a  whole  world  of  difference  between  the  two  expres-  ^ 

sions,  "The  Lord  is  a  Shepherd"  and   ''The  Lord  is  ^ 

my   Shepherd."     The    use    of   the    ''my"  indicates    a  | 

personal   transaction,   a  covenant   relation    into  which  | 

the  parties  have  solemnly  entered.     No  man  is  entitled  | 

to  use  this   expression  who   has  merely  a  reverential  |;' 

feehng  towards  God,   and   respect  for   His  will.     You  [ 

must  have  come  to  God  as  a  sinner,  owning  and  feeling  \ 

your  unworthiness,  and  casting  yourself  on  His  grace.  | 

You  must  have  transacted  with  God   in   the  spirit  of  i 

His  exhortation,   "Come   out   from  among   them,  and  j 

be  ye  separate,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing  ;'  and  \ 

VOL.  II.  23  \ 


354  'THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  f 

I  will  be  a  Father  unto  you  ;  and  ye  shall  be  My  sons       \. 
and  daughters,  saith  the  Lord  Almighty."  j 

One  other  point  has  to  be  noticed  in  this  introduction        j 
— when   David   comes   to   express   his    dependence  on        ; 
God,  he   very  specially  sets  Him  before  his   mind  as        i 
"worthy  to  be  praised."     Recalls  to  mind  the  gracious        \ 
character  of  God, — not  an  austere  God,  reaping  where        ■ 
He  has   not   sown,  and   gathering  where  He  has  not        1 
strawed,   but  ''the   Lord,  the   Lord  God  merciful  and         ' 
gracious,  long-suffering  and  abundant  in  goodness  and         , 
truth."     "This  doctrine,"  says  Luther,  "is  in  tribula-        \ 
tion  the  most  ennobling  and  truly  golden.     One  cannot         j 
imagine    what    assistance    such    praise    of    God    is    in         i 
pressing  danger.     For  as  soon  as  you  begin  to  praise         i 
God  the  sense  of  the  evil  will  also  begin  to  abate,  the         j 
comfort  of  your  heart  will  grow ;  and  then  God  will         | 
be   called   on   with   confidence.     There   are  some  who         i 
cry  to   the  Lord  and  are   not   heard.      Why  is   this  ? 
Because  they  do  not  praise  the  Lord  when  they  cry 
to  Him,   but   go   to   Him  with   reluctance ;    they  have 
not    represented    to    themselves    how   sweet    the   Lord 
is,  but  have  looked  only  to  their  own  bitterness.     But 
no  one  gets  deliverance  from  evil  by  looking    simply 
upon  his  evil  and  becoming  alarmed  at  it ;  he  can  get 
deliverance  only  by  rising  above  his  evil,  hanging  it 
on  God,  and  having  respect  to  His  goodness.     Oh,  hard 
counsel,  doubtless,  and  a  rare  thing  truly,  in  the  midst 
of  trouble  to  conceive  of  God  as  sweet,  and  worthy  to 
be  praised ;  and  when  He  has  removed  Himself  from 
us  and  is  incomprehensible,  even  then  to  regard  Him 
more  intensely   than  we    regard    our   misfortune    that 
keeps  us  from  Him  !     Only  let  one  try  it,  and  make  the 
endeavour  to  praise  God,  though  in  little  heart  for  it ; 
he  will  soon  experience  an  enlightenment." 


xxii.]  TJIE  SOiVG   OF   THANKSGIVING.  355  s 

II.  We  pass  on   to  the  part  of  the  song  where  the  1: 

Psalmist  describes  his  trials  and  God's  deliverances  in  \ 

his  times  of  danger  (vv.  5-20).  | 

The  description  is  eminently  poetical.  First,  there  is 
a  vivid  picture  of  his  troubles.  ''  The  waves  of  death 
compassed  me,  and  the  floods  of  ungodly  men  made  me  I 
afraid ;  the  sorrows  of  hell  compassed  me  ;  the  snares  I 
of  death  prevented  me  "  (''  The  cords  of  death  compassed 
me,  and  the  floods  of  ungodliness  made  me  afraid  ;  the  | 
cords  of  sheol  were  round  about  me  ;  the  snares  of  I 
death  came  upon  me,"  R.V.).  It  is  no  overcharged  1 
picture.  With  Saul's  javeUns  flying  at  his  head  in  the  [ 
palace,  or  his  best  troops  scouring  the  wilderness  in  ^ 
search  of  him  ;  with  Syrian  hosts  bearing  down  on  him  | 
like  the  waves  of  the  sea,  and  a  confederacy  of  nations  | 
conspiring  to  swallow  him  up,  he  might  well  speak  of  I 
the  waves  of  death  and  the  cords  of  Hades.  He  j 
evidently  desires  to  describe  the  extremest  peril  and 
distress  that  can  be  conceived,  a  situation  where  the 
help  of  man  is  vain  indeed.  Then,  after  a  brief  account 
of  his  calling  upon  God,  comes  a  most  animated  de- 
scription of  God  coming  to  his  help.  The  description  is  | 
ideal,  but  it  gives  a  vivid  view  how  the  Divine  energy  | 
is  roused  when  any  of  God's  children  are  in  distress.  | 
It  is  in  heaven  as  in  an  earthly  home  when  an  alarm  is  | 
given  that  one  of  the  little  children  is  in  danger,  has  wan-  \ 
dered  away  into  a  thicket  where  he  has  lost  his  way  :  | 
every  servant  is  summoned,  every  passer-by  is  called  to  i 
the  rescue,  the  whole  neighbourhood  is  roused  to  the  \ 
most  strenuous  efforts  ;  so  when  the  cry  reached  heaven  ,  I 
that  David  was  in  trouble,  the  earthquake  and  the  • 
lightning  and  all  the  other  messengers  of  heaven  were  j 
sent  out  to  his  aid  ;  nay,  these  were  not  enough ;  God  \ 
Himself  flew,  riding  on  a  cherub,  yea.  He  did  fly  upon  \ 


THE  SECOND  BOOK:  OF  SAMUEL. 


ihe  wings  of  the  wind.  Faith  saw  God  bestirring  Him 
self  for  his  deliverance,  as  if  every  agency  of  nature 
had  been  set  in  motion  on  his  behalf 

And  this  being  done,  his  deliverance  was  conspicuous 
and  complete.     He  saw  God's  hand  stretched  out  with 
remarkable  distinctness.     There  could  be  no  more  doubt 
that  it  was  God  that  rescued  him  from  Saul  than  that 
it  was    He    that   snatched  Israel    from  Pharaoh    when 
literally  '*  the  channels  of  the  sea  appeared,  the  founda- 
tions of  the  world  were  discovered,  at  the  rebuking  of 
the  Lord,  at  the  blast   of  the  breath  of  His  nostrils." 
There  could  be  no  more  doubt  that  it  was  God  who  pro- 
tected David  when  men  rose  to  swallow  him  up  than  that 
it  was  He  who  drew  Moses  from  the  Nile — ''He  sent  from 
above.  He  took  me,  He  drew  me  out  of  many  waters." 
No   miracles    had    been    wrought    on    David's     behalf; 
unhke  Moses  and  Joshua  before  him,  and  unlike  Elijah 
and  Elisha  after  him,  he  had  not  had  the  laws  of  nature 
suspended  for  his  protection  ;  yet  he  could  see  the  hand 
of  God  stretched  out  for  him  as  clearly  as  if  a  miracle 
had  been  wrought  at  every  turn.     Does  this  not  show 
that  ordinary  Christians,  if  they  are  but  careful  to  watch, 
and  humble  enough  to  watch  in  a  chastened  spirit,  may 
find    in    their    history,    however    quietly    it    may   have 
glided   by,  many  a  token   of  the  interest  and  care  ol 
their  Father  in  heaven  ?     And  w^hat  a  blessed  thing  to 
have  accumulated  through   hfe   a  store  of  such  provi- 
dences— to    have    Ebenezers    reared    along   the  whole 
line  of  one's  history  !     What  courage  after  looking  over 
such  a  past  might  one  feel  in  looking  forward  to  the 
future  1 

III.  The  next  section  of  the  song  sets  forth  the 
grounds  on  which  the  Divine  protection  was  thus  en- 
joyed by  David.     Substantially  these  grounds  were  the 


xxii.]  THE  SONG   OF   THANKSGIVING.  357  ■ 

upriglitness  and  faithfulness  with  which  he  had  served  i 

God.     The  expressions  are  strong,  and  at  first  sight  ■ 

they  have  a  flavour  of  self-righteousness.      "  The  Lord  | 

rewarded  me  according  to  my  righteousness  ;  according  | 

to   the  cleanness  of  my  hands  hath   He  recompensed  % 

me.     For  I  have  kept  the  ways  of  the  Lord,  and  have  % 

not  wickedly  departed    from    my  God.      For   all    His  \ 

judgments  were  before  me,  and   I  put  not  away  His  [ 

statutes  from  me.     I  was  also  perfect  with   Him,  and  | 
I  kept  myself  from  mine  iniquity."     But  it  is  impossible 

to  read  this  Psalm  without  feehng  that  it  is  not  per-  1 

vaded  by  the   spirit  of  the  self-righteous  man.     It  is  \ 

pervaded  by  a  profound  sense  of  dependence  on  God,  \ 

and  of  obligation  to  His  mercy  and  love.     Now  that  is  •; 

the  very  opposite  of  the  self-righteous  spirit.     We  may  \ 

surely  find  another  way  of  accounting  for  such  expres-  \ 

sions  used  by  David  here.     We  may  surely  believe  that  | 

all    that    was  meant    by   him  was   to   express  the  un-  ; 

swerving  sincerity  and  earnestness  with  which  he  had  I 

endeavoured  to  serve  God,  with  which  he  had  resisted  ! 

every  temptation  to  conscious  unfaithfulness,  with  which  \ 

he  had  resisted  every  allurement  to  idolatry  on  the  one  [^ 

hand  or  to  the  neglect  of  the  welfare  of  God's  nation  on  \ 

the  other.     What  he  here  celebrates  is,  not  any  personal  | 

righteousness  that  might  enable  him  as  an  individual  | 

to  claim  the  favour  and  reward  of  God,  but  the  ground  \ 

on  which  he,  as  the  public  champion  of  God's  cause  | 

before    the    world,    enjoyed     God's    countenance    and  | 

obtained    His    protection.       There   would    be    no   self-  \ 

righteousness  in  an  inferior  officer  of  the  navy  or  the  \ 

army  who  had  been  sent  on  some  expedition  saying,  '^  I  \ 

obeyed  your  instructions  in  every  particular;  I  never  i 

deviated  from  the  course  you  prescribed."     There  would  ( 

have  been  no  self-righteousness  in  such  a  man  as  Luther  ? 


358  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

saying,  "  I  constantly  maintained  the  principles  of  the 
Bible ;  I  never  once  abandoned  Protestant  ground." 
Such  affirmations  would  never  be  held  to  imply  a  claim 
of  personal  sinlessness  during  the  whole  course  of  their 
lives.  Substantially  all  that  is  asserted  is,  that  in  their 
public  capacity  they  proved  faithful  to  the  cause  en- 
trusted to  them  ;  they  never  consciously  betrayed  their 
public  charge.  Now  it  is  this  precisely  that  David 
affirms  of  himself.  Unlike  Saul,  who  abandoned  the 
law  of  the  kingdom,  David  uniformly  endeavoured  to 
carry  it  into  effect.  The  success  which  followed  he 
does  not -claim  as  any  credit  to  himself,  but  as  due  to 
his  having  followed  the  instructions  of  his  heavenly 
Lord.  It  is  the  very  opposite  of  a  self-righteous  spirit. 
He  would  have  us  understand  that  if  ever  he  had 
abandoned  the  guidance  of  God,  if  ever  he  had  relied 
on  his  own  wisdom  and  followed  the  counsels  of  his 
own  heart,  everything  w^ould  have  gone  wrong  with 
him ;  the  fact  that  he  had  been  successful  was  due 
altogether  to  the  Divine  wisdom  that  guided  and  the 
Divine  strength  that  upheld  him. 

Even  with  this  explanation,  some  of  the  expressions 
may  seem  too  strong.  How  could  he  speak  of  the 
cleanness  of  his  hands,  and  of  his  not  having  wickedly 
departed  from  his  God  ?  Granting  that  the  song  was 
written  before  his  sin  in  the  case  of  Uriah,  yet  remem- 
bering how  he  had  lied  at  Nob  and  equivocated  at  Gath, 
might  he  not  have  used  less  sweeping  words  ?  But  it 
is  not  the  way  of  burning,  enthusiastic  minds  to  be  for 
ever  weighing  their  words,  and  guarding  against  mis- 
understandings. Enthusiasm  sweeps  along  in  a  rapid 
current.  And  David  correctly  describes  the  prevailing 
features  of  his  public  endeavours.  His  pubHc  life  was 
unquestionably  marked    by    a   sincere    and    commonly 


I 

xxii.]  TJI£  SONG   OF  THANKSGIVING.  359  |. 

successful  endeavour    to  follow    the  will    of  God.     In  [ 

contrast  with  Saul  and  Ishbosheth,   side  by   side  with  f 

Absalom    or  Sheba,  his  career   was    purity  itself,   and  J 

bore  out  the  rule  of  the  Divine  government,   "  With  the  \ 

merciful  Thou  wilt  show  Thyself  merciful,  and  with  the  \ 

upright  man  Thou  wilt  show  Thyself  upright.     With  | 

the  pure  Thou  wilt  show  Thyself  pure,   and  with  the  f 

froward  Thou  wilt  show  Thyself  unsavoury."     If  God  ; 

is  to  prosper  us,  there  must  be  an  inner  harmony 
between  us  and  Him.  If  the  habit  of  our  life  be  op- 
posed to  God,  the  result  can  only  be  collision  and  re- 
buke. David  was  conscious  of  the  inner  harmony, 
and  therefore  he  was  able  to  rely  on  being  supported  [ 

and  blessed.  ^ 

IV.   In   the  wide  survey  of  his  life  and  of  his  pro-  f 

vidential  mercies,  the  eye  of  the  Psalmist  is  particularly  I 

fixed  on  some  of  his  deliverances,  in  the  remembrance  | 

of  which  he  specially  praises  God.     One  of  the  earliest  [ 

appears  to  be  recalled  in  the  words,  "  By  my  God  have  \ 

I  leaped  over  a  wall," — the  wall,  it  may  be  supposed,  ; 

of  Gibeah,   down    which    Michal    let    him    when  Saul  f 

sent   to    take   him   in    his    house.     Still    further  back,  [ 

perhaps,  in  his  life  is  the  allusion  in  another  expression  | 

— "  Thy  gentleness  hath  made  me  great."     He  seems  | 

to  go  back  to  his  shepherd  life,  and  in  the  gentleness  with  | 

which  he  dealt  with  the  feeble  lamb  that   might  have  | 

perished  in  rougher  hands  to  find  an  emblem  of  God's  | 

method  with  himself.      If   God  had    not   dealt    gently  | 

with  him,   he  never  would  have  become  what  he  was.  \ 

'  i 

The    Divine    gentleness  had    made    paths    easy    that  | 

rougher  treatment  would  have  made  intolerable.     And  \ 

who  of  us  that  looks  back  but  must  own  our  obligations  | 

to  the  gentleness  of  God,  the  tender,  forbearing,  nay  | 

loving,  treatment  He  has  bestowed  on  us,  even  in  the  \ 

\ 

c, 

I 

I 


36o  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

midst   of  provocations   that  would    have  justified    far 
harsher  treatment  ? 

But  what  ?  Can  David  praise  God's  gentleness  and 
in  the  next  words  utter  such  terrible  words  against  his 
foes  ?  How  can  he  extol  God's  gentleness  to  him 
and  immediately  dwell  on  his  tremendous  severity  to 
them  ?  '^  I  have  consumed  them  and  wounded  them 
that  they  could  not  arise ;  yea,  they  are  fallen  under  my 
feet.  .  .  .  Then  did  I  beat  them  as  small  as  the  dust  of 
the  earth,  I  did  stamp  them  as  the  mire  of  the  street, 
and  did  spread  them  abroad."  It  is  the  military  spirit 
which  we  have  so  often  observed,  looking  on  his 
enemies  in  one  Hght  only,  as  identified  with  every- 
thing evil  and  enemies  of  all  that  was  good.  To 
show  mercy  to  them  would  be  like  showing  mercy  to 
destructive  wild  beasts,  raging  bears,  venomous  ser- 
pents, and  rapacious  vultures.  Mercy  to  them  would 
be  cruelty  to  all  God's  servants ;  it  would  be  ruin  to 
God's  cause.  No  !  for  them  the  only  fit  doom  was 
destruction,  and  that  destruction  he  had  dealt  to  them 
with  no  unsparing  hand. 

But  while  we  perceive  his  spirit,  and  harmonise  it 
with  his  general  character,  we  cannot  but  regard  it  as 
the  spirit  of  one  who  was  imperfectly  enlightened.  We 
tremble  when  we  think  what  fearful  wickedness  perse- 
cutors and  inquisitors  have  committed,  under  the  idea 
that  the  same  course  was  to  be  followed  against  those 
whom  they  deemed  enemies  of  the  cause  of  God.  We 
rejoice  in  the  Christian  spirit  that  teaches  us  to  regard 
even  public  enemies  as  our  brothers,  for  whom  individu- 
ally kindly  and  brotherly  feelings  are  to  be  cherished. 
And  we  remember  the  nev/  aspect  in  which  our  relations 
to  such  have  been  placed  by  our  Lord  :  "  Love  your 
enemies,  bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them 


xxii.]  THE  SONG   OF  THANKSGIVING.  361 

that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use 
you  and  persecute  you." 

In  the  closing  verses  of  the  Psalm,  the  views  of  the 
Psalmist  seem  to  sweep  beyond  the  limits  of  an  earthly 
kingdom.  His  eye  seems  to  embrace  the  wide-spread- 
ing dominion  of  Messiah  ;  at  all  events,  he  dwells  on 
those  features  of  his  own  kingdom  that  were  typical  of 
the  all-embracing  kingdom  of  the  Gospel  :  "Thou  hast 
made  me  the  head  of  the  nations ;  a  people  whom  I 
have  not  known  shall  serve  me.  As  soon  as  they  hear 
of  me  they  shall  obey  me;  the  strangers  shall  submit 
themselves  unto  me."  The  fort3^-ninth  verse  is  quoted 
by  St.  Paul  (Rom.  xv.  9)  as  a  proof  that  in  the  pur- 
pose of  God  the  salvation  of  Christ  was  designed  for 
Gentiles  as  well  as  Jews.  ''  It  is  beyond  doubt," 
says  Luther,  ''  that  the  wars  and  victories  of  David 
prefigured  the  passion  and  resurrection  of  Christ." 
At  the  same  time,  he  admits  that  it  is  very  doubtful 
how  far  the  Psalm  applies  to  Christ,  and  how  far  to 
David,  and  he  declines  to  press  the  t3^pe  to  particulars. 
But  we  may  surely  apply  the  concluding  words  to 
David's  Son :  "  He  shov.^eth  loving-kindness  to  his 
anointed,  to  David  and  to  his  seed  for  everm.ore." 

It  is  interesting  to  mark  the  military  aspect  of  the 
kingdom  gliding  into  the  missionary.  Other  psalms 
bring  out  more  clearly  this  missionary  element,  exhibit 
David  rejoicing  in  the  widening  limits  of  his  kingdom, 
in  the  wider  diffusion  of  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God, 
and  in  the  greater  happiness  and  prosperity  accruing 
to  men.  And  yet,  perhaps,  his  views  on  the  subject 
were  comparatively  dim  ;  he  may  have  been  disposed  to 
identify  the  conquests  of  the  sword  and  the  conquests  | 
of  the  truth  instead  of  regarding  the  one  as  but  typical  j 
of  the  other.     The  visions  and  revelations  of  his  later        \ 


362  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


years  seem  to  have  thrown  new  hght  on  this  glorious 
subject,  and  though  not  immediately,  yet  ultimately,  to 
have  convinced  him  that  truth,  righteousness,  and 
meekness  were  to  be  the  conquering  weapons  of 
Messiah's  reign. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

THE  LAST   WORDS  OF  DAVID, 
2  Samuel  xxiii.  i — 7.     (^See  Revised  Version  and  margin.') 

OF  these  "  the  last  words  of  David/'  we  need  not 
understand  that  they  were  the  last  words  he  ever 
spoke,  but  his  last  song  or  psalm,  his  latest  vision,  and 
therefore  the  subject  that  was  most  in  his  mind  in  the 
last  period  of  his  life.  The  Psalm  recorded  in  the 
preceding  chapter  was  an  earlier  song,  and  its  main 
drift  was  of  the  past.  Of  this  latest  Psalm  the  main 
drift  is  of  the  future.  The  colours  of  this  vision  are 
brighter  than  those  of  any  other.  Aged  though  the 
seer  was,  there  is  a  glory  in  this  his  latest  vision 
unsurpassed  in  any  that  went  before.  The  setting  sun 
spreads  a  lustre  around  as  he  sinks  under  the  horizon 
unequalled  by  any  he  diffused  even  when  he  rode  in 
the  height  of  the  heavens. 

The  song  falls  into  four  parts.  First,  there  is  an 
elaborate  introduction,  descriptive  of  the  singer  and 
the  inspiration  which  gave  birth  to  his  song ;  secondly, 
the  main  subject  of  the  prophecy,  a  Ruler  among  men, 
of  wonderful  brightness  and  glory ;  thirdly,  a  reference 
to  the  Psalmist's  own  house  and  the  covenant  God  had 
made  with  him ;  and  finally,  in  the  way  of  contrast  to 
the  preceding,  a  prediction  of  the  doom  of  the  ungodly. 

I.   In  the  introduction,  we  cannot  but  be  struck  with 


S6i  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

the  formality  and  solemnity  of  the  affirmation  respect- 
ing the  singer  and  the  inspiration  under  which  he  sang. 

"  David,  the  son  of  Jesse,  saith, 
And  the  man  who  was  raised  on  high  saith, 
The  anointed  of  the  God  of  Jacob, 
And  the  sweet  psalmist  of  Israel : 
The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  spake  by  me, 
And  His  word  was  upon  my  tongue  ; 
The  God  of  Israel  said, 
The  Rock  of  Israel  spake  to  me  "     (R.V.). 

The  first  four  clauses  represent  David  as  the  speaker; 
the  second  four  represent  God's  Spirit  as  inspiring  his 
words.  The  introduction  to  Balaam's  prophecies  is  the 
only  passage  where  we  find  a  similar  structure,  nor  is 
this  the  only  point  of  resemblance  between  the  two 
songs. 

"  Balaam,  the  son  of  Beor,  saith. 
And  the  man  whose  eye  was  closed  saith  ; 
He  saith  which  heareth  the  words  of  God, 
And  knoweth  the  knowledge  of  the  Most  High  ; 
Which  seeth  the  vision  of  the  Almighty, 
Falling  down,  and  having  his  eyes  open  " 

(Num.  xxiv.  15,  16,  R.V.). 

In  both  prophecies,  the  word  translated  ^' saith"  is 
peculiar.  While  occurring  between  two  and  three  hun- 
dred times  in  the  formula  ''Thus  saith  the  Lord,"  it  is 
used  by  a  human  speaker  only  in  these  two  places  and 
in  Prov.  xxx.  I.  Both  Balaam  and  David  begin  by 
giving  their  own  name  and  that  of  their  father,  thereby 
indicating  their  native  insignificance,  and  disclaiming 
any  right  to  speak  on  subjects  so  lofty  through  any 
wisdom  or  insight  of  their  own.  Immediately  after,  they 
claim  to  speak  the  words  of  God.  All  the  grounds  on 
which  David  should  be  listened  to  fall  under  this  head. 
Was  he  not  ''raised  up  on  high "  ?     Was  he  not  the 


xxiii.  1-7-]  THE  LAST   WORDS   OF  DAVID,  365 

anointed  of  the  God  of  Jacob?  Was  he  not  the  sweet 
Psahnist  of  Israel  ?  Having  been  raised  up  on  high, 
David  had  established  the  kingdom  of  Israel  on  a  firm 
and  lasting  basis,  he  had  destroyed  all  its  enemies, 
and  he  had  established  a  comely  order  and  prosperity 
throughout  all  its  borders;  as  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel, 
or,  as  it  has  been  otherwise  rendered,  '^  the  lovely  one 
in  Israel's  songs  of  praise  " — that  is,  the  man  who  had 
been  specially  gifted  to  compose  songs  of  praise  in 
honour  of  Israel's  God — it  was  fitting  that  he  should  be 
made  the  organ  of  this  very  remarkable  and  glorious  com- 
munication. It  is  interesting  to  to  observe  how  David 
must  have  been  attracted  by  Balaam's  vision.  The  dark 
wall  of  the  Moabite  mountains  was  a  familiar  object  to 
him,  and  must  often  have  recalled  the  strange  but  un-  | 

worthy  prophet  who  spoke  of  the  Star  that  was  to  shine  [ 

so  gloriously,  and  the  Sceptre  that  was  to  have  such  a         | 
wonderful  rule.     Often  during  his  life  we  may  beUeve 
that  David  devoutly  desired  to  know  something  more 
of  that   mysterious   Star  and   Sceptre;   and   now  that 
desire  is  fulfilled ;  the  Star  is  as  the  light  of  the  morn-         i 
ing  star;  the  Sceptre  is  that  of  a  blessed  ruler,  "one         j 
that  ruleth  over  men  righteously,  that  ruleth  in  the  fear         | 
of  God."  ^ 

The  second  part  of  the  introduction  stamps  the  \ 
prophecy  with  a  fourfold  mark  of  inspiration,  i.  "The  | 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  spake  by  me."  For  ''  the  prophecy  | 
came  not  of  old  time  by  the  will  of  man  ;  but  holy  men  | 
of  God  spake  as  they  were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost." 
2.  "  His  word  was  in  my  tongue."  For  in  high  . 
visions  like  this,  of  which  no  wisdom  of  man  can  create 
even  a  shadow,  it  is  not  enough  that  the  Spirit  should 
merely  guide  the  writer ;  this  is  one  of  the  utterances 
where   verbal   inspiration   must    have    been    enjoyed. 


366  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

3.  "The  God  of  Israel  said,"  He  who  entered  into 
covenant  with  Israel,  and  promised  him  great  and 
peculiar  mercies.  4.  '^  The  Rock  of  Israel  spake  to 
me,"  the  faithful  One,  whose  words  are  stable  as 
a  rock,  and  who  provides  for  Israel  a  foundation- 
stone,  elect  and  precious,  immovable  as  the  ever- 
lasting hills. 

So  remarkable  an  introduction  must  be  followed  by 
no  ordinary  prophecy.  If  the  prophecy  should  bear  on 
nothing  more  remarkable  than  some  earthly  successor 
of  David,  all  this  preliminary  glorification  would  be 
singularly  out  of  place.  It  would  be  like  a  great 
procession  of  heralds  and  flourishing  of  trumpets  in  an 
earthly  kingdom  to  announce  some  event  of  the  most 
ordinary  kind,  the  repeal  of  a  tax  or  the  appointment 
of  an  officer. 

II.  We  come  then  to  the  great  subject  of  the  prophecy 
— a  Ruler  over  men.  The  rendering  of  the  Authorized 
Version  is  somewhat  lame  and  obscure,  ''  He  that  ruleth 
over  men  must  be  just,"  there  being  nothing  whatever 
in  the  original  corresponding  to  ''  must  be."  The 
Revised  Version  is  at  once  more  literal  and  more 
expressive  : — 

**  One  that  ruleth  over  men  righteously, 
Ruling  in  the  fear  of  God, 
He  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning." 

It  is  a  vision  of  a  remarkable  Ruler,  not  a  Ruler  over 
the  kingdom  of  Israel  merely,  but  a  Ruler  ''  over  men." 
The  Ruler  seen  is  One  whose  government  knows  no 
earthly  limits,  but  prevails  wherever  there  are  men. 
Solomon  could  not  be  the  ruler  seen,  for,  wide  though 
his  empire  was,  he  was  king  of  Israel  only,  not  king 
of  men.     It  was  but  a  speck  of  the  habitable  globe^  but 


xxiii.  I-;.]  THE  LAST  WORDS   OF  DAVID.  367 

a  morsel  of  that  part  of  it  that  was  inhabited  even  then, 
over  which  Solomon  reigned.  If  the  term  ''  One  that 
ruleth  over  men  "  could  have  been  appropriated  by  any 
monarch,  it  would  have  been  Ahasuerus,  with  his 
hundred  and  twenty-seven  provinces,  or  Alexander  the 
Great,   or  some   other  universal    monarch,  that  would  ; 

have    had    the   right     to    claim    it.      But    every    such  i 

application  is  out  of  the  question.     The  "  Ruler  over  \ 

men "    of  this    vision    must    have    been    identified    by  j 

David  with  Him  ''in  whom  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  i 

were  to  be  blessed."  I 

It   is  worthy  of  very  special    remark   that  the  first  j 

characteristic  of  this  R.uler  is  ''righteousness."     There  [ 

is  no  grander  or  more  majestic  word  in  the  language 
of  men.     Not  even  love  or  mercy  can  be  preferred  to  | 

righteousness.       And    this    is    no    casual    expression,  f 

happening  in  David's  vision,  for  it  is  common  to  the  | 

whole    class    of  prophecies    that    predict    the  Messiah.  ; 

"  Behold,   a    King   shall   reign    in    righteousness,    and  ! 

princes    shall  rule  in   judgment."    "There    shall    come  | 

forth  a  rod  out  of  the  stem  of  Jesse,  and  the  spirit  of  | 
the  fear  of  the  Lord  .  .  .  shall  rest  on  Him,  .  .  .  and  [ 

righteousness  shall  be  the  girdle  of  His  loins."     There  | 

is  no  lack  in  the  New  Testament  of  passages  to  magnify  | 

the  love  and  mercy  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  yet  it  is  made  \ 
very  plain  that  righteousness  was  the  foundation  of  all  | 

His  work.     "Thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all  nghteous-  | 

ness,"  were  the  words  with  which  He  removed  the  | 
objections  of  John  to  His  baptism,  and  they  were  words  \ 
that  described  the  business  of  His  whole  life :  to  fulfil  \ 
all  righteousness  for  His  people  and  in  His  people —  \ 
for  them,  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  righteous  law  j 

and  bear  the  righteous  penalty  of  transgression ;  in  ( 
them,  to  infuse   His  own    righteous  spirit   and  mould 


36S  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

them  into  the  likeness  of  His  righteous  example,  to 
sum  up  the  whole  law  of  righteousness  in  the  law  of 
love,  and  by  His  grace  instil  that  law  into  their  hearts. 
Such  essentially  was  the  work  of  Christ  No  man 
can  say  of  the  religious  life  that  Christ  expounded 
that  it  was  a  life  of  loose,  feverish  emotion  or  senti- 
mental spirituahty  that  left  the  Decalogue  far  out  of 
view.  Nothing  could  have  been  further  from  the  mind 
of  Him  that  said,  "  Except  your  righteousness  shall 
exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees, 
ye  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  unlike  the  spirit  of  Him 
who  w^as  not  content  with  maintaining  the  letter  of  the 
Decalogue,  but  with  His  ^' again,  I  say  unto  you,"  drove 
its  precepts  so  much  further  as  into  the  very  joints  and 
marrow  of  men's  souls. 

It  is  the  grand  characteristic  of  Christ's  salvation  in 
theory  that  it  is  through  righteousness ;  it  is  not  less 
its  effect  in  practice  to  promote  righteousness.  To 
any  who  would  dream,  under  colour  of  free  grace,  of 
breaking  down  the  law  of  righteousness,  the  words  of 
"  the  Holy  One  and  the  Just "  stand  out  as  an  eternal 
rebuke,  "  Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  destroy  the  law 
and  the  prophets;  I  am  not  come  to  destroy,  but  to 
fulfil." 

And  as, Christ's  work  was  founded  on  righteousness, 
so  it  was  constantly  done  ''  in  the  fear  of  God," — with 
the  highest  possible  regard  for  His  will,  and  reverence 
for  His  law.  '*  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  My 
Father's  business?"  is  the  first  w^ord  we  hear  from 
Christ's  lips;  and  among  the  last  is,  "Not  My  will, 
but  Thine,  be  done."  No  motto  could  have  been  more 
appropriate  for  His  whole  life  than  this  :  "  I  delight  to 
do  Thy  will,  O  My  God." 


xxiii.  1-7.]  THE   LAST   WORDS   OF  DA  VID.  369 

Having  shown  the  character  of  the  Ruler,  the  vision 
next  pictures  the  effects  of  His  rule  : — 

'*  He  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning  when  the  sun  riseth,  \ 

A  morning  without  clouds,  | 

When  the  tender  grass  springeth  out  of  the  earth  | 

Through  clear  shining  after  rain. "  i 

But   v^rhy   introduce   the    future    ''shall    be"  in  the  j 

translation  when  it  is  not  in   the  original  ?     May  we  [ 

not  conceive  the  Psalmist  reading  off"  a  vision — a  scene 
unfolding  itself  in  all  its  beauty  before  his  mind's 
eye  ?  A  beautiful  influence  seems  to  come  over  the 
earth  as  the  Divine  Ruler  makes  His  appearance, 
like  the  rising  of  the  sun  on  a  cloudless  morning,  like 
the  appearance  of  the  grass  when  the  sun  shines  out  : 

clearly  after  rain.     No  imagery  could  be  more  delightful,  ? 

or  more    fitly    applied    to  Christ.     The    image    of  the  | 

morning     sun    presents     Christ    in     His     gladdening  \ 

influences,   bringing  pardon  to  the  guilty,  health  to  the  | 

diseased,  hope  to  the  despairing ;  He  is  indeed  like  the  | 

morning  sun,  fighting  up  the  sky  with  splendour  and  j 

the  earth  with  beauty,  giving  brightness  to  the  languid  j 

eye,    and   colour  to   the   faded  cheek,  and  health  and  I 

hope  to  the  sorrowing  heart.  The  chief  idea  under  | 
the  other  emblem,  the  grass  shining  clearly  after  rain,  | 
is  that  of  renewed  beauty  and  growth.  The  heavy  | 
rain  batters  the  grass,  as  heavy  trials  batter  the  soul ;  | 
but  when  the  morning  sun  shines  out  clearly,  the  grass  j 
recovers,  it  sparkles  with  a  fresher  lustre,  and  grows  | 
with  intenser  activity.  So  when  Christ  shines  on  the  \ 
heart  after  trial,  a  new  beauty  and  a  new  growth  and  j 
prosperity  come  to  it.  When  this  Sun  of  righteousness 
shines  forth  thus,  in  the  case  of  individuals  the  under- 
standing becomes  more  clear,  the  conscience  more 
vigorous,  the  wiU  more  firm,  the  habits  more  holy,  the 


VOL.    II. 


24 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


temper  more  serene,  the  affections  more  pure,  the 
desires  more  heavenly.  In  communities,  conversions 
are  multiplied,  and  souls  advanced  steadily  in  holy 
beauties ;  intelligence  spreads,  love  triumphs  over 
selfishness,  and  the  spirit  of  Christ  modifies  the  spirit 
of  strife  and  the  spirit  of  mammon.  It  is  with  the 
happiest  skill  that  Solomon,  appropriating  part  of  his 
father's  imagery,  draws  the  picture  of  the  bride,  with 
the  radiance  of  the  bridegroom  falling  on  her :  "  Who 
is  she  that  looketh  forth  as  the  morning,  fair  as  the 
moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  and  terrible  as  an  army  with 
banners  ?  " 

III.  Next  comes  David's  allusion  to  his  own  house. 
In  our  translation,  and  in  the  text  of  the  Revised 
Version,  this  comes  in  to  indicate  a  sad  contrast  between 
the  bright  vision  just  described  and  the  Psalmist's  own 
family.  It  indicates  that  his  house  or  family  did  not 
correspond  to  the  picture  of  the  prophecy,  and  would 
not  realize  the  emblems  of  the  rising  sun  and  the 
growing  grass ;  but  as  God  had  made  with  himself 
an  everlasting  covenant,  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure, 
that  satisfied  him  ;  it  was  all  his  salvation  and  all  his 
desire,  although  his  house  was  not  to  grow. 

But  in  the  margin  of  the  Revised  Version  we  have 
another  translation,  which  reverses  all  this  : — 

"  For  is  not  my  house  so  with  God  ? 
For  He  hath  made  with  me  an  everlasting  covenant, 
Ordered  in  all  things  and  sure  : 
For  all  my  salvation  and  all  my  desire, 
Will  He  not  make  it  to  grow  ?  " 

Corresponding  as  this  does  with  the  translation  of 
inany  scholars  {e.g.,  Boothroyd,  Hengstenberg,  Fair- 
bairn),  it  must  be  regarded  as  admissible  on  the 
strength  of  outward  evidence.     And  if  so,  certainly  it 


xxiii.i-;.]    THE  LAST   WORDS   OF  DAVID. 


371 


IS  very  strongly  recommended  by  internal  evidence. 
For  what  reason  could  David  have  for  introducing  his 
family  at  all  after  the  glorious  vision  if  only  to  say 
that  they  were  excluded  from  it  ?  And  can  it  be 
thought  that  David,  whose  nature  was  so  intensely 
sympathetic,  would  be  so  pleased  because  he  was 
personally  provided  for,  though  not  his  family  ?  And 
still  further,  why  should  he  go  on  in  the  next  verses 
(6,  7)  to  describe  the  doom  of  the  ungodly  by  way  of 
contrast  to  what  precedes  if  the  doom  of  ungodly 
persons  is  the  matter  already  introduced  in  the  fifth 
verse  ?     The    passage    becomes    highly    involved    and  ; 

unnatural  in  the  light  of  the  older  translation.  i 

The  key  to  the  passage  will  be  found,  if  we  mistake 
not,  in  the  expression  "my  house."     We  are  liable  to  \ 

think  of  this  as  the  domestic  circle,  whereas  it  ought  to  I 

be  thought  of  as  the  reigning  dynasty.    What  is  denoted  | 

by  the  house  of  Hapsburg,  the  house  of  Hanover,  the  | 

house  of  Savoy,  is    quite  different  from  the   personal  [ 

family  of  any  of  the  kings.     So  when  David  speaks  of  [ 

his  house,  he  means  his    dynasty.     In  this  sense  his  I 

"  house  "  had  been  made  the  subject  of  the  most  gra-  [ 

cious  promise.     ''  Moreover,  the  Lord  telleth  thee  that  \ 

He  will  make  thee  an  house.   .   .  .  And  thine  house  and  ? 

thy    kingdom    shall    be    made    sure    for    ever    before  J 

thee.   .  .  .  Then  David  said,  .  .  .  What  is  my  house,  that  | 

Thou  hast  brought  me  thus  far  ?  .  .  .   Thou  hast  spoken  I 

also  of  Thy  servant's  house  for  a  great  while  to  come."  \ 

The  king  felt  profoundly  on  that  occasion  that  his  house  \ 

was    even    more    prominently    the    subject    of    Divine  \ 

promise  than  himself     What  roused  his   gratitude  to  \ 

its  utmost   height  was   the  gracious  provision   for   his  I 

house.     Surely  the  covenant  referred  to  in  the  passage 
now  before  us,  "ordered  in  all  things  and  sure,"  was  I 

I 


THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


this  very  covenant  announced  to  him  by  the  prophet 
Nathan,  the  covenant  that  made  this  provision  for  his 
house.  It  is  impossible  to  think  of  him  recaihng  this 
covenant  and  yet  saying,  "  Verily  my  house  is  not  so 
with  God  "  (R.V.). 

But  take  the  marginal  reading — "  Is  not  my  house  so 
u^ith  God  ?  "  Is  not  my  dynasty  em.braced.in  the  scope 
of  this  promxise  ?  Hath  He  not  made  with  me  an  ever- 
lasting covenant,  ordered  in  ail  things  and  sure  ?  And 
will  He  not  make  this  promise,  which  is  all  my  salvation 
and  all  my  desire,  to  grow,  to  fructify  ?  It  is  infinitely 
more  natural  to  represent  David  on  this  joyous  occasion 
congratulating  himself  on  the  promise  of  long  continu- 
ance and  prosperity  made  to  his  dynasty,  than  dwell- 
ing on  the  unhappy  condition  of  the  members  of  his 
family  circle. 

And  the  facts  of  the  future  correspond  to  this 
explanation.  Was  not  the  government  of  David's 
house  or  dynasty  in  the  main  righteous,  at  least  for 
many  a  reign,  conducted  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  followed 
by  great  prosperity  and  blessing  ?  David  himiself, 
Solomon,  Asa,  Jehoshaphat,  Hezekiah,  Josiah — what 
other  nation  had  ever  so  many  Christlike  kings  ? 
What  a  contrast  was  presented  to  this  in  the  main  by 
the  apostate  kingdom  of  the  ten  tribes,  idolatrous,  Gcd- 
dishonouring,  throughout  !  And  as  to  the  growth  or 
continued  vitahty  of  his  house,  its  ''clear  shining  after 
rain,"  had  not  God  promised  that  He  would  bless  it,  and 
that  it  would  continue  for  ever  before  Him  ?  He  knew 
that,  spiritually  dormant  at  times,  his  house  would 
survive,  till  a  living  root  came  from  the  stem  of  Jesse, 
till  the  Prince  of  hfe  should  be  born  from  it,  and  once 
that  plant  of  renown  was  raised  up,  there  was  no  fear 
but  the  house  would  be  preserved  for  ever.     From  this 


xxiii.  I-;.]  THE   LAST   WORDS   OF  DAVID.  373  \ 

point  it  would  start  on  a  new  career  of  glory  ;  nay,  this  \ 

was  the  very  Ruler  of  whom  he  had  been  prophesying,  ; 

at  once  David's  Son  and  David's  Lord  ;  this  was  the  root  \ 

and  the  offspring  of  David,  the  bright  and  the  morning  | 

star.     Conducted  to  this  stage  in  the  future  experience  j 

of    his    house,    he    needed    no    further    assurance,    he  \ 

cherished  no  further  desire.     The  covenant  that  rested  \ 

on   Him   and   that  promised   Him  was   ordered   in   all 

things  and  sure.     The  glorious  prospect  exhausted  his 

every   wish.     ^'This   is    all   my  salvation  and    all  my 

desire." 

IV.  The  last  part  of  the  prophecy,  in  the  way  of 

contrast   to   the  leading  vision,  is  a  prediction  of  the 

doom  of  the  ungodly.     The  revised  translation  is  much  \ 

the  clearer  : —  I 

\ 

"  But  the  ungodly  shall  be  all  of  them  as  thorns  to  be  thrust  away,  I 

For  they  cannot  be  taken  with  the  hand,  [ 

But  the  man  that  toucheth  them 
Must  be  armed  with  iron  and  the  staff  and  spear, 
And  they  shall  be  utterly  burned  with  fire  in  their  place." 

While  some  would  fain  think  of  Christ's  sceptre  as 
one  of  mercy  only,  the  uniform  representation  of  the 
Bible  is  different.     In   this,  as  in  most   predictions  of  \ 

Christ's  kingly  office,  there  is  an  instructive  combina-  | 

tion   of  mercy  and  judgment.     In   the   bosom   of  one  | 

of    Isaiah's    sweetest    predictions,    he    introduces    the  | 

Messiah  as  anointed  by  the  Spirit  of  God  to  proclaim  I 

"  the    day  of  vengeance   of  our   God."      In   a   subse-  f 

quent  vision,  Messiah  appears  marching  triumphantly  \ 

"  with  dyed  garments  from  Bozrah,  after  treading  the  \ 

people  in  His  anger  and  trampUng  them  in  His  fury."  { 

Malachi   proclaimed   Him  "  the  Sun  of  righteousness,  j 

with  healing  under  His  wings,"  while  His  day  was  to  I 

burn   as    an   oven    and    consume    the    proud    and    the  j 


374  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL.  \ 

wicked  like  stubble.     John  the  Baptist  saw  Him  "with 
His    fan  in    His   hand,  throughly  purging    His    floor,       1 
gathering  the  wheat  into   His  garner,  while  the  chaff 
should  be  burnt  with  unquenchable  fire."     In  His  own       •; 
words,  '^  the  Son  of  man  shall  gather  out  of  His  king- 
dom all  things  that  offend,  and  them  that  do  iniquity, 
and   cast  them  into  a  furnace  of  fire  ;   there  shall  be 
weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth."     And  in  the  Apoca-        , 
lypse,  when  the  King  of  kings  and  the  Lord  of  lords        i 
is  to   be  married   to   His  bride,  He  appears  "  clothed        | 
with  a  garment  dipped  in  blood,  and  out  of  His  mouth        ! 
goeth  a  sharp  sword,  that  He  should  smite  the  nations,        I 
and   He  treadeth  the  winepress  of  the  fierceness  and        : 
wrath  of  Almighty  God."  i 

Nor   could  it    be  otherwise.     The    union  of  mercy        ' 
and  judgment  is  the  inevitable  result  of  the  righteous-        } 
ness  which  is  the  foundation  of  His  government.     Sin 
is  the  abominable  thing  which  He  hates.     To  separate 
men  from  sin  is  the  grand  purpose  of  His  government. 
For  this  end,   He  draws   His  people  into  union  with         | 
Himself,   thereby  for  ever    removing    their   guilt,    and 
providing  for  the  ultimate  removal  of  all  sin  from  their         I 
hearts  and  the  complete  assimilation  of  their  natures         ! 
to  His  holy  nature.     Blessed  are  they  who  enter  into        \ 
this  relation  ;  but  alas  for  those  who,  for  all  that  He         \ 
has  done,  prefer  their  sins  to   Him  !     "  The  ungodly         | 
shall  be  all  of  them  as  thorns  to  be  thrust  away."  \ 

Oh,  let  us  not  be  satisfied  with  admiring  beautiful  | 
images  of  Christ  !  Let  us  not  deem  it  enough  to  think  ^ 
with  pleasure  of  Him  as  the  light  of  the  morning,  a  j 
morning  without    clouds,    brightening    the    earth,    and  I 

making  it  sparkle  with  the  lustre  of  the  sunshine  on 
the  grass  after  rain  !  Let  us  not  satisfy  ourselves 
with  knowing  that  Jesus   Christ  came  to  earth  on   a 


xxiii.  1-7.]  THE  LAST   WORDS   OF  DA  VID.  375  ( 

^ j 

beneficent  mission,  and  with   thinking  that  surely  we  [ 

shall  one  day  share  in  the  blessed  effects  of  His  work  !  \ 

Nothing  of  that  kind  can  avail  us  if  we  are  not  person-  \ 

ally  united  to  Christ,      We  must  come  as  sinners  indi-  | 

vidually  to  Him,  cast  ourselves  on  His  free,  unmerited  | 

grace,   and    deliberately  accept    His    righteousness    as  f 

our  clothing.     Then,  but  only  then,  shall  we  be  able  | 

to  sing  :  "  I  will  greatly  rejoice  in  the  Lord ;  my  soul 
shall  be  joyful  in  my  God ;  for  He  hath  clothed  me 
with  the  garments  of  salvation,  He  hath  covered  me 
with  the  robe  of  righteousness,  as  a  bridegroom  decketh 
himself  with  ornaments,  and  as  a  bride  adorneth  her- 
self with  her  jewels." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

THE  NUMBERING   OF  ISRAEL. 
2  Samuel  yjciv. 

THOUGH  David's  life  was  now  drawing  to  its  close, 
neither  his  sins  nor  his  chastisements  were  yet 
exhausted.  One  of  his  chief  offences  was  committed 
when  he  was  old  and  grey-headed.  There  can  be  little 
doubt  that  what  is  recorded  in  this  chapter  took  place 
toward  the  close  of  his  life ;  the  word  "  again  "  at  the 
beginning  indicates  that  it  was  later  in  time  than  the 
event  which  gave  rise  to  the  last  expression  of  God's 
displeasure  to  the  nation.  Surely  there  can  be  little 
ground  for  the  doctrine  of  perfectionism,  otherwise 
David,  whose  religion  was  so  earnest  and  so  deep, 
would  have  been  nearer  it  now  than  this  chapter 
shows  that  he  was. 

The  offence  consisted  in  taking  a  census  of  the  people. 
At  first  it  is  difficult  to  see  what  there  was  in  this  that 
was  so  sinful ;  yet  highly  sinful  it  was  in  the  judgment 
of  God,  in  the  judgment  of  Joab,  and  at  last  in  the  judg- 
ment of  David  too  ;  it  will  be  necessary,  therefore,  to 
examine  the  subject  very  carefully  if  we  would  under- 
stand clearly  what  constituted  the  great  sin  of  David. 

The  origin  of  the  proceeding  was  remarkable.  It 
may  be  said  to  have  had  a  double,  or  rather  a  triple, 
origin  :  God,  David,  and  Satan,  or,  as  some  propose  to 
render  in  place  of  Satan,  "  an  enemy." 


xxiv.]  THE   NUMBERING   OF  ISRAEL.  377 

In  Samuel  we  read  that  ''  the  Lord's  anger  was  again 
kindled  against  Israel."  The  nation  required  a  chastise- 
ment. It  needed  a  smart  stroke  of  the  rod  to  make  it 
pause  and  think  how  it  was  offending  God.  We  do  not 
require  to  know  very  specially  what  it  was  that  dis- 
pleased God  in  a  nation  that  had  been  so  ready  to  side 
with  Absalom  and  drive  God's  anointed  from  the  throne. 
They  were  far  from  steadfast  in  their  allegiance  to  God, 
easily  drawn  from  the  path  of  duty  ;  and  all  that  it  is 
important  for  us  to  know  is  simply  that  at  this  parti- 
cular time  they  were  farther  astray  than  usual,  and 
more  in  need  of  chastisement.  The  cup  of  sin  had  \ 
filled  up  so  far  that  God  behoved  to  interpose.  ! 

For  this  end  '^  the  Lord  moved  David  against  them  . 
to  say,  Go,  number  Israel  and  Judah."  The  action  of  \ 
God  in  the  matter,  like  His  action  in  sinful  matters  • 
generally,  was,  that  He  permitted  it  to  take  place.  He  \ 
allowed  David's  sinful  feeling  to  come  as  a  factor  into 
His  scheme  with  a  view  to  the  chastising  of  the  people.  f 
We  have  seen  many  times  in  this  history  how  God  is  ' 
represented  as  doing  things  and  saying  things  which  » 
He  does  not  do  nor  say  directly,  but  which  He  takes  up  • 
into  His  plan,  with  a  view  to  the  working  out  of  some  v 
great  end  in  the  future.  But  in  Chronicles  it  is  said  \ 
that  Satan  stood  up  against  Israel  and  provoked  David  | 
to  number  Israel.  According  to  some  commentators,  the  | 
Hebrew  word  is  not  to  be  translated  "  Satan,''  because  | 
it  has  no  article,  but  ''an  adversary,"  as  in  parallel  e 
passages  :  "  The  Lord  stirred  up  an  adversary  unto  \ 
Solomon,  Hadad  the  Edomite  "  (l  Kings  xi.  14);  ''God  ■; 
stirred  up  another  adversary  to  Israel,  Razon,  the  son  | 
of  EHadib  "  (i  Kings  xi.  23).  Perhaps  it  was  some  one  | 
in  the  garb  of  a  friend,  but  with  the  spirit  of  an  enemy,  | 
that  moved  David  in  this  matter.     If  we  suppose  Satan        \ 


378  "HE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

to  have  been  the  active  mover,  then  Bishop  Hall's 
v^'ords  v»ill  indicate  the  relation  between  the  three 
parties  :  "  Both  God  and  Satan  had  then  a  hand  in  the 
work — God  by  permission,  Satan  by  suggestion  ;  God 
as  a  Judge,  Satan  as  an  enemy;  God  as  in  a  just 
punishment  for  sin,  Satan  as  in  an  act  of  sin ;  God  in 
a  wise  ordination  of  it  for  good,  Satan  in  a  malicious 
intent  of  confusion.  Thus  at  once  God  moved  and 
Satan  moved,  neither  is  it  any  excuse  to  Satan  or  to 
David  that  God  moved,  neither  is  it  any  blemish  to 
God  that  Satan  moved.  The  ruler's  sin  is  a  punish- 
ment to  a  wicked  people  ;  if  God  were  not  angry  with 
a  people,  He  would  not  give  up  their  governors  to  evils 
that  provoke  His  vengeance ;  justly  are  we  charged  to 
mak^  prayers  and  supplications  as  for  all  men,  so 
especially  for  rulers." 

But  what  constituted  David's  great  offence  in  number- 
ing the  people  ?  Every  civilised  State  is  now  accus- 
tomed to  number  its  people  periodically,  and  for  many 
good  purposes  it  is  a  most  useful  step.  Josephus 
represents  that  David  omitted  to  levy  the  atonement 
money   which    was  to    be  raised,   according    to   Exod.  | 

XXX.  12,  etc.,  from  all  who  were  numbered,  but  surely,  | 

if  this  had  been  his  offence,  it  would  have  been  easy  | 

for  Joab,  when  he  remonstrated,  to  remind  him  of  it,  | 

instead  of  trying    to    dissuade  him   from  the    scheme  | 

altogether.     The  more  common  view  of  the  transaction  | 

has  been  that  it  was  objectionable,  not  in  itself,  but  in  | 

the  spirit  by  which  it  was  dictated.     That  spirit  seems  | 

to  have  been  a  self-glorifying  spirit.     It  seems  to  have  I 

been  like   the  spirit  which  led  Hezekiah  to  show  his  j 

treasures  to  the  ambassadors  of  the  king  of  Babylon.  1 

Perhaps  it  was  designed  to  show,  that  in  the  number  | 

of  his  forces  David  was  quite   a  match   for  the  great  1 


xxiv.]  THE  NUMBERING   OF  ISRAEL.  379 

empires  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  and  the  Euphrates. 

If  their  fighting  men  could  be  counted  by  the  hundred  \ 

thousand  or  the  thousand  thousand,  so  could  his.     In  \ 

the  fighting  resources  of  his  kingdom,  he  was  able  to  I 

hold  his  head  as  high  as  any  of  them.     Surely  such  \ 

a  spirit  was  the  very  opposite  of  what  was  becoming  \ 

in  such  a  king  as  David.     Was  this  not  measuring  the  i 
strength  of  a   spiritual  power   with  the  measure  of  a     ' 
carnal  ?     Did  it  not  leave  God  most    sinfully   out   of 

reckoning  ?     Nay,  did    it  not    substitute  a   carnal   for  i 

a  spiritual  defence  ?     Was  it  not  in  the  very  teeth  of  1 

the  Psalm,  "  There  is  no  king  saved  by  the  multitude  \ 

of  an  host ;  a  mighty  man  is  not  delivered  by  much  \ 

strength.     An  horse  is  a  vain  thing  for  safety  ;  neither  \ 

shall  he  deliver  any  by  his  great  strength.     Behold,  the  | 

eye  of  the  Lord  is  upon  them  that  fear  Him,  upon  them  | 

that    hope    in    His  mercy,    to  deliver   their  soul  from  \ 
death,  and  to  keep  them  alive  in  famine  "  ? 

That  David's  project  was  very  deeply  seated  in  his 
heart  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  he  was  unmoved  by 
the  remonstrance  of  Joab.     In  ordinary  circumstances 

it  must  have  startled   him   to   find  that  even   he    was  | 

strongly  opposed  to  his  project.     It  is  indeed  strange  I 

that  Joab  should  have  had  scruples  where  David  had  | 

none.     We    have    been    accustomed    to    find    Joab   so  \ 

seldom  in  the  right  that  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  he  | 

was    in    the    right    now.     But    perhaps    we    do    Joab  | 

injustice.      He   was    a   man    that  could  be   profoundly  \ 

stirred  when  his  own  interests  were  at  stake,  or  his  \ 

passions   roused,    and  that  seemed  equally  regardless  | 

of  God   and   man  in  what  he   did  on  such  occasions.  i 

But  otherwise   Joab    commonly    acted   with    prudence  I 

and    moderation.     He  consulted   for  the  good   of  the  ! 
nation.     He  was  not  habitually  reckless  or  habitually 


380  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

cruel,  and  he  seems  to  have  had  a  certain  amount  of 
regard  to  the  will  of  God  and  the  theocratic  constitution 
of  the  kingdom,  for  he  was  loyal  to  David  from  the 
very  beginning,  up  to  the  contest  between  Solomon  and 
Adonijah.  It  is  evident  that  Joab  felt  strongly  that 
in  the  step  which  he  proposed  to  take  David  would  be 
acting  a  part  unworthy  of  himself  and  of  the  constitution 
of  the  kingdom,  and  by  displeasing  God  would  expose 
himself  to  evils  far  beyond  any  advantage  he  might 
hope  to  gain  by  ascertaining  the  number  of  the  people. 

For  once — and  this  time,  unhappily — David  was  too 
strong  for  the  son  of  Zeruiah.  The  enumerators  of  the 
people  were  despatched,  no  doubt  with  great  regularity, 
to  take  the  census.  The  boundaries  named  were  not 
beyond  the  territory  as  divided  by  Joshua  among  the 
Israelites,  save  that  Tyre  and  Zidon  were  included  ;  not 
that  they  had  been  annexed  by  David,  but  probably 
because  there  was  an  understanding  that  in  all  his 
military  arrangements  they  were  to  be  associated  with 
him.  Nine  months  and  twenty  days  were  occupied  in 
the  business.  At  the  end  of  it,  it  was  ascertained 
that  the  fighting  men  of  Israel  were  eight  hundred 
thousand,  and  those  of  Judah  five  hundred  thousand ; 
or,  if  we  take  the  figures  in  Chronicles,  eleven  hundred 
thousand  of  Israel  and  four  hundred  and  seventy 
thousand  of  Judah.  The  discrepancy  is  not  easily 
accounted  for ;  but  probably  in  Chronicles  in  the 
number  for  Israel  certain  bodies  of  troops  were  in- 
cluded which  were  not  included  in  Samuel,  and  vice 
versa  in  the  case  of  Judah. 

Just  as  in  the  case  of  his  sin  in  the  matter  of  Uriah, 
David  was  long  of  coming  to  a  sense  of  it.  How  his 
view  came  to  change  we  are  not  told,  but  when  the 
change  did  occur,  it  seems,  as  in  the  other  case,  to  have 


xxiv.]  THE   NUMBERING   OF  ISRAEL.  381 


come  with  extraordinary  force.     ''  David's  heart  smote  ^ 

him   after   that    he  had    numbered    the  people.      And  \ 

David  said  unto  the  Lord,  I  have  sinned  greatly  in  that  | 

which  I  have  done ;  and  now,  I  beseech  Thee,  O  Lord,  | 

take  away  the  iniquity  of  Thy  servant,  for  I  have  done  I 

very  foolishly."     Once  alive  to  his  sin,  his  humiliation  | 

is  very  profound.     His    confession    is    frank,    hearty,  \ 

complete.     He    shows  no   proud    desire  to  remain  on  [ 

good  terms  with  himself,   seeks  nothing  to  break  his  1 

fall    or  to  make  his  humiliation  less   before  Joab  and  | 

before  the  people.     He  says,   '^  I  will  confess  my  trans-  i 

gression  to  the  Lord  ; "  and  his  plea  is  one  with  which  r 

he  is  famiUar  from  of   old — "  For  Thy  name's  sake,  \ 

O  Lord,  pardon  mine  iniquity,  for  it  is  great."     He  is  \ 

never  greater  than  when  acknowledging  his  sin.  | 

Next   comes    the   chastisement.      The    moment    for  | 

sending  it  is  very  seasonable.     It  did  not  come  while  j 

his  conscience  was   yet  slumbering,  but  after   he  had  \ 

come  to  feel  his  sin.     His  confessions  and  relentings  | 

were  proofs  that  he  was  now  fit  for  chastisement ;  the  ■; 

chastisement,    as    in    the    other    case,    was    solemnly  \^ 

announced  by  a  prophet ;  and,  as  in  the  other  case  too,  \ 

it  fell  on  one  of  the  tenderest  spots  of  his  heart.     Then  | 

the  first  blow  fell  on  his  infant  child ;  now  it  falls  upon  | 
his  sheep.  His  affections  were  divided  between  his 
children  and  his  people,  and  in  both  cases  the  blow 
must  have  been  very  severe.  It  was,  as  far  as  we  can 
judge,  after  a  night  of  very  profound  humiliation  that 
the  prophet  Gad  was  sent  to  him.  Gad  had  first 
come  to  him  when  he  was  hiding  from  Saul,  and  had 
therefore  been  his  friend  all  his  kingly  life.  Sad  that 
so  old  and  so  good  a  friend  should  be  the  bearer  to 
the  aged  king  of  a  bitter  message  !  Seven  years  of 
famine  (in  I  Chron.  xxi.  12,  three  years),  three  months 


382  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

of  unsuccessful  war,  or  three  days  of  pestilence, — the 
choice  lies-  between  these  three.  All  of  them  were 
well  fitted  to  rebuke  that  pride  in  human  resources 
which  had  been  the  occasion  of  his  sin.  Well  might 
he  say,  "  I  am  in  a  great  strait."  Oh  the  bitterness 
of  the  harvest  when  you  sow  to  the  flesh  !  Between 
these  three  horrors  even  God's  anointed  king  has  to 
choose.  What  a  delusion  it  is  that  God  will  not  be 
very  careful  in  the  case  of  the  wicked  to  inflict  the  due 
retribution  of  sin  !  ''  If  these  things  were  done  in  the 
green  tree,  what  shall  be  done  in  the  dry  ?  " 

David  chose  the  three  days  of  pestilence.  It  was 
the  shortest,  no  doubt,  but  what  recommended  it, 
especially  above  the  three  months  of  unsuccessful  war, 
was  that  it  would  come  more  directly  from  the  hand 
of  God.  "  Let  me  fall  now  into  the  hand  of  the  Lord, 
for  His  mercies  are  great,  and  let  me  not  fall  into  the 
hand  of  man."  What  a  frightful  time  it  must  have 
been  !  Seventy  thousand  died  of  the  plague.  From 
Dan  to  Beersheba  nothing  would  be  heard  but  a  bitter 
cry,  like  that  of  the  Egyptians  when  the  angel  slew  the 
first-born.  What  days  and  nights  of  agony  these  must 
have  been  to  David  !  How  slowly  would  they  drag 
on  !  What  cries  in  the  morning,  "  Would  God  it  were 
evening  ! "  and  in  the  evening,  "  Would  God  it  were 
morning  1 " 

The  pestilence,  wherever  it  originated,  seems  to  have 
advanced  from  every  side  like  a  besieging  army,  till  it 
was  ready  to  close  upon  Jerusalem.  The  destroying 
angel  hovered  over  Mount  Moriah,  and,  like  Abraham 
on  the  same  spot  a  thousand  years  before,  was  bran- 
dishing his  sword  for  the  work  of  destruction.  It  was 
a  spot  that  had  already  been  memorable  for  one  display 
of  Divine  forbearance,  and   now  it   became  the  scene 


xxiv.]  THE  JSrUMBERING   OF  ISRAEL.  383  \ 

of  another.     Like  the  hand  of  Abraham  when  ready 

to   plunge  the   knife   into   the   bosom   of  his   son,   the  \ 

hand  of  the  angel  was  stayed  when  about  to  fall  on  \ 

Jerusalem.      For  Abraham  a   ram   had   been   provided  .  \ 

to  offer  in  the  room  of  Isaac  ;  and  now  David  is  com-  \ 

manded  to   offer  a    burnt-offering  in   acknowledgment  I 
of  his  guilt  and  of  his  need  of  expiation.     Thus  the 
Lord  stayed  His  rough  wind  in  the  day  of  His  east 
wind.      \\\    sparing    Jerusalem,    on    the    very    eve    of 
destruction,    He    caused     His    mercy    to    rejoice    over 

judgment.  I 

No  one  but  must  admire  the  spirit  of  David  when  \ 

the  angel  appeared  on  Mount  Moriah.     Owning  frankly  j 

his  own  great  sin,  and  especially  his  sin  as  a  shepherd,  \ 

he  bared  his  own  bosom  to  the  sword,  and  entreated  | 

God    to    let    the  punishment  fall  on   him  and   on   his  I 

father's  house.     Why  should  the  sheep  suffer  for  the  f 

sin  of  the  shepherd  ?     The  plea  was  more   beautiful  | 

than  correct.     The  sheep  had  been  certainly  not  less  [ 

guilty  than   the  shepherd,  though   in  a  different  way.  \ 

We  have  seen  how  the  anger  of  the  Lord  had  been  1 

kindled  against  Israel  when  David  was  induced  to  go  t 

and  number  the  people.     And  as  both  had  been  guilty,  ;1 

so    both    had    been    punished.     The    sheep    had    been  | 

punished    in    their   own   bodies,   the   shepherd    in    the  I 

tenderest  feelings  of  his  heart.     It  is  a  rare  sight  to  | 

find  a  man  prepared  to  take  on  himself  more  than  his  I 

own  share  of  the  blame.     It  was  not  so  in  paradise,  | 

when  the  man  threw  the  blame  on  the  woman  and  the  \ 

woman    on    the   serpent.     We   see   that,   with    all   his  t 

faults,  David  had  another  spirit  from  that  of  the  vulgar  1 

world.     After  all,  there  is  much  of  the  Divine  nature  | 

in  this  poor,  blundering,  sinning  child  of  clay.  | 

On  the  day  when  the  angel  appeared  over  Jerusalem,  \ 


3S4  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

Gad  was  sent  back  to  David  with  a  more  auspicious 
message.  He  is  required  to  build  an  altar  to  the  Lord 
on  the  spot  where  the  angel  stood.  This  was  the 
fitting  counterpart  to  Abraham's  act  when,  in  place 
of  Isaac,  he  offered  the  ram  which  Jehovah-jireh  had 
provided  for  the  sacrifice.  The  circumstances  con- 
nected with  the  rearing  of  the  altar  and  the  offering 
of  the  burnt-offering  were  very  peculiar,  and  seem  to 
have  borne  a  deep  typical  meaning.  The  place  where 
the  angel's  arm  was  arrested  was  by  the  threshing-floor 
of  Araunah  the  Jebusite.  It  was  there  that  David  was 
commanded  to  rear  his  altar  and  offer  his  burnt-offering. 
When  Araunah  saw  the  king  approaching,  he  bowed 
before  him  and  respectfully  asked  the  purpose  of  his 
visit.  It  was  to  buy  the  threshing-floor  and  build  an 
altar,  that  the  plague  might  be  stayed.  But  if  the 
threshing-floor  was  needed  for  that  purpose,  Araunah 
would  give  it  freely ;  and  offer  it  as  a  free  gift  he  did, 
with  royal  munificence,  along  with  the  oxen  for  a  burnt- 
offering  and  their  implements  also  as  wood  for  the 
sacrifice.  David,  acknowledging  his  goodness,  would 
not  be  outdone  in  generosity,  and  insisted  on  making 
payment.  The  floor  was  bought,  the  altar  was  built, 
the  sacrifice  was  offered,  and  the  plague  was  stayed. 
As  we  read  in  Chronicles,  fire  from  heaven  attested 
God's  acceptance  of  the  offering.  "And  David  said, 
This  is  the  house  of  the  Lord  God,  and  this  is  the  altar 
of  the  burnt-offering  for  Israel."  That  is  to  say,  the 
threshing-floor  was  appointed  to  be  the  site  of  the  temple 
which  Solomon  was  to  build ;  and  the  spot  where  David 
had  hastily  reared  his  altar  was  to  be  the  place  where, 
for  hundreds  of  years,  day  after  day,  morning  and 
evening,  the  blood  of  the  burnt-offering  was  to  flow, 
and  the  fumes  of  incense  to  ascend  before  God, 


xxiv.]                THE  NUMBERING   OF  ISRAEL.                     385  [ 

___ — . — ___ —  , 

( 

No   doubt  it   was  to  save   time  in   so   pressing   an  ( 

emergency  that  Araunah    gave  for  sacrifice  the   oxen  ^ 

with    which    he    was    working,    and    the    implements  | 

connected  with  his  labour.     But  in  the  purpose  of  God,  | 

a  great  truth  lay  under  these  symbolical  arrangements.  | 

The   oxen    that    had    been   labouring    for    man   were  | 

sacrificed   for  man  ;    both    their    life    and    their   death  \ 

I- 

were  given  for  man,  just  as  afterwards  the  Lord  Jesus  f 

Christ,  after  living  and  labouring  for  the  good  of  many,  [ 

at  last  gave  His  life  a  ransom.     The  wood  of  the  altar  1 

on  which  they  suffered  was,  part  of  it  at  all  events,  | 

borne  on  their  own  necks,  ''  the  threshing  instruments  \ 

and  other  instruments  of  the  oxen,"  just  as  Isaac  had  I 

borne  the  wood  and  as  Jesus  was  to  bear  the  cross  on  | 

which,  respectively,  they  were  stretched.     The  sacrifice  | 

was  a  sacrifice  of  blood,  for  only  blood  could  remove  \ 

the   guilt  that   had   to  be    pardoned.     The  analogy  is  \ 

clear    enough.     Isaac  had   escaped ;  the    ram    suffered  ; 

in  his  room.      Jerusalem  escaped  now ;  the  oxen  were  [ 

sacrificed  in  its  room.      Sinners  of   mankind  were  to  \ 

escape ;  the  Lamb  of  God  was  to  die,  the  just  for  the  [ 

unjust,  to  bring  them  to  God.  \ 

There  were  other  circumstances,  however,  not  with-  \ 

out  significance,  connected  with   the   purchase  of  the  | 

temple   site.      The    man    to    whom    the    ground    had  | 

belonged,  and  whose  oxen  had  been  slain  as  the  burnt-  I 

offering,  was  a  Jebusite  ;  and  from  the  way  in  which  | 

he  designated  David's  Lord,    "  the  Lord  thy  God,"   it  | 

is  not  certain  whether  he  was  even  a  proselyte.     Som.e  | 

think  that  he  had  formerly  been  king  of  Jerusalem,  or  | 

rather  of  the  stronghold  of  Zion,  but  that  when  Zion  [ 
was  taken  he  had  been  permitted  to  retire  to  Mount 
Moriah,  which  was  separated  from  Zion  only  by  a  deep 

ravine.     Josephus  calls  him  a  great  friend  of  David's.  \ 

VOL.  II.                                                               25  I 


THE  SECOND  BOOK   OF  SAMUEL. 


He  could  not  have  shown  a  more  friendly  spirit  or 
a  more  princely  liberality.  The  striking  way  in 
which  the  heart  of  this  Jebusite  was  moved  to  co- 
operate wdth  King  David  in  preparing  for  the  temple 
was  fitted  to  remind  David  of  the  missionary  character 
which  the  temple  was  to  sustain.  ''  My  house  shall 
be  called  an  house  of  prayer  for  all  nations."  In  the 
words  of  the  sixty-eighth  Psalm,  ''Because  of  thy 
temple  at  Jerusalem  shall  kings  bring  presents  unto 
thee."  As  Araunah's  oxen  had  been  accepted,  so 
the  time  would  come  when  "  the  sons  of  the  stranger 
that  join  themselves  to  the  Lord,  to  serve  Him  and  to 
love  the  name  of  the  Lord,  even  them  will  I  bring  to 
My  holy  mountain,  and  make  them  joyful  in  My  house 
of  prayer ;  their  burnt-offerings  and  their  sacrifices 
shall  be  accepted  upon  Mine  altar."  What  a  wonderful 
thing  is  sanctified  afQiction  !  While  its  root  lies  in  the 
very  corruption  of  our  nature,  its  fruit  consists  of  the 
best  blessings  of  Heaven.  The  root  of  David's  affliction 
was  carnal  pride ;  but  under  God's  sanctifying  grace, 
it  was  followed  by  the  erection  of  a  temple  associated 
with  heavenly  blessing,  not  to  one  nation  only,  but  to 
all.  When  affliction,  duly  sanctified,  is  thus  capable 
of  bringing  such  blessings,  it  makes   the  fact   all  the 


more  lamentable  that  affliction  is  so  often  unsanctified.  | 

It  is  vain  to  imagine  that  everything  of  the  nature  of  | 

affliction  is  sure  to  turn  to  good.     It  can  turn  to  good  | 

on  one  condition  only — when  your  heart  is    humbled  I 

under  the   rod,    and   in    the    same    humble,    chastened  | 

spirit  as  David  you  say,  and  feel  as  well  as  say,   "  I  | 

have  sinned."  j 

One  other  lesson    we    gather  from   this    chapter   of  , 

David's    history.       When    he    declined    to    accept    the  | 

generous  offer  of  Araunah,  it  was  on  the  ground  that  ; 


xxiv.]  THE   NUMBERING   OF  ISRAEL.  387  j 

he  would  not  serve  the  Lord  with  that  which  cost  him  \ 

nothing.     The  thought  needs  only  to  be  put  in  words  [ 

to  commend  itself  to  every  conscience.     God's  service  s 

is  neither  a  form  nor  a  sham  ;  it  is  a  great  reality.     If  \ 

we  desire  to  show  our  honour  for  Him,  it  must  be  in  a  | 

way  suited  to  the  occasion.  The  poorest  mechanic  | 
that  would  offer  a  gift  to  his  sovereign  tries  to  make 
it  the  product  of  his  best  labour,  the  fruit  of  his  highest 
skill.  To  pUick  a  weed  from  the  roadside  and  present 
it  to  one's  sovereign  would  be  no  better  than  an  insult. 
Yet  how  often  is  God  served  with  that  which  costs 
men    nothing  !      Men    that    will    lavish    hundreds    and 

thousands  to  gratify  their  own  fancy,— what  miserable  \ 

driblets    they    often    give  to  the  cause  of   God  !     The  \ 

smallest    of  coins    is    good    enough    for   His  treasury.  | 

And  as  for  other  forms  of  serving  God,  what  a  tendency  | 

there    is    in    our    time   to    make    everything   easy    and  ^ 

pleasant, — to  forget  the  very  meaning   of  self-denial  !  \ 

It  is  high  time  that  that  word  of  David  were  brought  I 

forth   and   put   before   every   conscience,   and   made   to  \ 

rebuke  ever  so  many   professed    worshippers  of  God,  i 

whose  rule  of  worship  is  to  serve  God  with  what  does  '^ 

cost  them  nothing.     The   very    heathen    reprove   you.  [ 

Little    though    there  has  been  to  stimulate  their  love,  | 

their  sacrifices  are  often  most  costly— far  from  sacrifices  | 

that  have  cost  them  nothing.     Oh,  let  us  who  call  our-  | 

selves  Christians  beware  lest  we  be  found  the  meanest,  | 

paltriest,    shabbiest    of   worshippers  !     Let    souls    that  | 

have  been    blessed    as    Christians    have  devise   Hberal  \ 

things.     Let  your  question  and  the  answer  be  :  "  What  \ 

shall  I  render  to  the  Lord  for  all  His  benefits  toward  ( 

me  ?     I  will  take  the  cup  of  salvation  and  call  on  the  \ 

name  of  the  Lord.     I  will  pay  my  vows  unto  the  Lord,  i 

now  in  the  presence  of  His  people."  | 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE  TWO  BOOKS  OF  SAMUEL.  j 

HAVING  now  surveyed  the  events  of  the  history  j 

of  Israel,  one  by  one,  during  the  v^hole  of  that  | 

memorable  period  which  is  embraced  in  the  books  of  i 

Samuel,  it  will  be  profitable,  before  we  close,  to  cast  a  | 

glance  over  the  way  by  which  we  have  travelled,  and  1 

endeavour  to  gather  up  the  leading  lessons  and  impres-  ; 

sions  of  the  whole.  | 

Let  us  bear  in  mind  all  along  that  the  great  object  \ 

of  these  books,   as  of  the   other   historical   books   of  \ 
Scripture,  is  peculiar  :  it  is  not  to  trace  the  history  of  a 

nation,  in  the  ordinary  sense,  but  to  trace  the  course  of  i 

Divine  revelation,  to  illustrate  God's  manner  of  dealing  j 

with  the  nation  whom  He  chose  that  He  might  instruct  ! 

and  train  them  in  His  ways,  that  He  might  train  them  j 

to  that  righteousness   which  alone   exalteth  a  people,  i 

and  that  He  might  lay  a  foundation  for  the  work  of  | 

Christ  in  future  times,  in  whom  all  the  families  of  the  | 

earth  were  to   be  blessed.     The  history  delineated  is  | 

not   that   of  the    kingdom   of  Israel,  but  that    of  the  | 

kingdom  of  God.  \ 

The  history  falls  into  four  divisions,  like  the  acts  of  j 

a  drama.     I.  It  opens  with  Eli  as  high-priest,  when  the  j 

state  of  the  nation  is  far  from  satisfactory,  and  God's  \ 

holy  purpose  regarding  it  appears  a  failure.     II.  With  i 

Samuel  as   the   Lord's  prophet,  we  see  a  remarkable  \ 


THE    TWO  BOOKS  OF  SAMUEL.  389  \ 

.  ( 

\ 

revival  of  the  spirit  of  God's  nation.     III.  With  Saul  a  [ 

king^  the  fair  promise  under  Samuel  is  darkened,  and  an  I 

evil  spirit  is  again  ascendant.     IV.   But  with  David,  the  I 

conditions  are  again  reversed  ;  God's  purpose  regarding  \ 

the  people  is  greatly  advanced,  but  in  the  later  part  of         \ 

his  reign  the  sky  again  becomes  overcast,  through  his         | 

infirmities   and  the  people's  perversity,  and  the  great  i 

forces  of  good  and  evil  are  left  still  contending,  though  \ 

not  in  the  same  proportion  as  before.  | 

I.  The  opening  scene,  under  the  high-priesthood  of         1 

Eli,  is  sad  and  painful.     It  is  the  sanctuary  itself,  the         i 

priestly  establishment  at  Shiloh,  that  which  ought  to  be         \ 

the  very  centre  and   heart  of  the  spiritual  life  of  the         [ 

nation,  that  is  photographed  for  us  ;  and  it  is  a  deplor-         ? 

able  picture.     The  soul  of  religion  has  died  out ;  little         | 

but  the  carcase  is  left.     Formality  and  superstition  are         \ 

the  chief  forces  at  work,  and  a  wretched  business  they         \ 

make  of  it.     Men  still  attend  to  religious  service,  for         | 

conscience   and    the  force  of  habit    have  a  wonderful         [ 

tenacity ;    but  what   is   the   use  ?     Religion  does   not         \ 

even  help  morality.     The  acting  priests  are  unblushing        | 

profligates,  defiling  the  very  precincts  of  God's  house        \ 

with  abominable  wickedness.     And  what  better  could         \ 

you    expect    of  the    people  when    their  very   spiritual        | 

guides  set  them  such  an  example  ?     "  Men  abhor  the        | 

offering  of  the  Lord."     No  wonder !     It  irritates  them        | 

in  the  last  degree  to  have  to  give  their  wealth  ostensibly        | 

for  reHgion,  but  really  to  feed  the  lusts  of  scoundrels.        \ 

People  feel  that  instead  of  getting  help  from  religious        \ 

services  for  anything  good,  it  strains  all  that  is  best  in        [ 

them   to  endure  contact  with   such   things.     How  can        [ 

belief  in  a  living  God  prevail  when   the  very  priests       1 

show   themselves    practical   atheists?     The   very   idea       1 

of  a  personal  God  is  blotted  out  of  the  people's  mind,       * 

\ 
% 


390  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

and  superstition  takes  its  place.  Men  come  to  think 
that  certain  words,  or  things,  or  places  have  in  some 
way  a  power  to  do  them  good.  The  object  of  religion 
is  not  to  please  God,  but  to  get  the  mysterious  good 
out  of  the  words,  or  things,  or  places  that  have  it 
in  them.  When  they  are  going  to  war,  they  do  not 
think  how  they  may  get  the  living  God  to  be  on  their 
side,  but  they  take  hold  of  the  dead  ark,  believing  that 
there  is  some  spell  in  it  to  frighten  their  enemies. 
Israelites  who  believe  such  things  are  no  better  than 
their  pagan  neighbours.  The  whole  purpose  of  God  to 
make  them  an  enlightened,  orderly,  sanctified  people 
seems  grievously  frustrated. 

Even  good  men  become  comparatively  useless  under 
such  a  system.  The  very  high-priest  is  a  kind  of 
nonentity.  If  Eli  had  asserted  God's  claims  with  any 
vigour,  Hophni  and  Phinehas  would  not  have  dared  to 
live  as  they  did.  It  is  a  mournful  state  of  things  when 
good  men  get  reconciled  to  the  evil  that  prevails,  or 
content  themselves  with  very  feebly  protesting  against 
it.  No  doubt  Eh  most  sincerely  bewailed  it.  But  the 
very  atmosphere  was  drowsy,  inviting  to  rest  and  quiet. 
There  was  no  stir,  no  movement  anywhere.  Where  all 
death  lived,  life  died. 

And  yet,  as  in  the  days  of  Elijah,  God  had  His  faith- 
ful ones  in  the  land.  There  were  still  men  and  women 
that  believed  in  a  living  God,  and  in  their  closets 
prayed  to  their  Father  that  seeth  in  secret.  And  God 
has  wonderful  ways  of  reviving  His  cause  when  it 
seems  extinct.  When  all  flesh  had  corrupted  their 
way,  there  was  yet  one  man  left  who  was  righteous  and 
godly;  and  through  Noah  God  peopled  the  world. 
When  the  new  generation  had  become  idolatrous,  He 
chose  one  man,  Abraham,  and  by  him  alone  He  built 


THE    TWO   BOOKS    OF  SAIdUEL.  391 

up  a  holy  Church,  and  a  consecrated  nation.  And  now, 
when  all  Israel  seems  to  be  hopelessly  corrupt,  God 
finds  in  an  obscure  cottage  a  humble  woman,  through 
whose  seed  it  is  His  purpose  that  His  Church  be 
revived,  and  the  nation  saved.  Take  heed  that  ye 
despise  not  one  of  these  little  ones.  Be  thankful  for 
every  man  and  woman,  however  insignificant,  in  whose 
heart  there  is  a  living  faith  in  a  living  God.  No  one 
can  tell  what  use  God  may  not  make  of  the  poorest 
saint.  For  God's  power  is  unlimited.  One  man,  one 
woman,  one  child,  may  be  His  instrument  for  arresting 
the  decline  of  ages,  and  introducing  a  nev/  era  of 
spiritual  revival  and  holy  triumph. 

II.  For  it  was  no  less  a  change  than  this  that  was 
effected  through    Samuel,  Hannah's    child.     From    his 
infancy  Samuel  was  a  consecrated  person.     Brought  up 
as  a  child  to  reverence  the  sanctuary  a»d  all  its  worship, 
he  learned  betimes  the  true  meaning  of  it  all ;  and  the 
reverence  that  he  had  been  taught  to  give  to  His  out- 
ward service,  he  learned  to  associate  with  the  person  of 
the  living  God.     And  Samuel  had  the  courage  of  his 
convictions,   and   told  the   people  of  their  sins,  and  of 
God's  claims.     It  was  his  function  to  revive  belief  in 
the  spiritual  God,  and  in   His  relation  to  the  people  of 
Israel ;  and  to  summon  the  nation  to  honour  and  serve 
Him.     What  Samuel   did  in  this  way,  he  did  mainly 
through  his  high  personal  character  and  intense  con-       I 
victions.     In    office    he    was    neither    priest  nor  king, 
though    he   had   much   of   the   influence  of  both.     No 
doubt  he  judged  Israel ;  but  that  function  came  to  him 
not  by  formal  appointment,  but  rather  as  the  fruit  of 
his   high  character  and   commanding    influence.      The      j 
whole  position  of  Samuel  and  the  influence  which  he      i 
wielded   were  due  not  to   temporal  but  spiritual  con-      ! 

\ 


392  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

siderations.  He  manifestly  walked  with  God  ;  he  was 
conspicuous  for  his  fellowship  with  Jehovah,  Israel's 
Lord ;  and  his  life,  and  his  character,  and  his  words, 
all  combined  to  exalt  Him  whose  servant  he  evidently 
was. 

And  that  was  the  work  to  which  Samuel  was  ap- 
pointed. It  was  to  revive  the  faith  of  an  unbelieving 
people  in  the  reality  of  God's  existence  in  the  first 
place,  and  in  the  second  in  the  reahty  of  His  covenant 
relation  to  Israel.  It  was  to  rivet  on  their  minds  the 
truth  that  the  supreme  and  only  God  was  the  God  of 
their  nation,  and  to  get  them  to  have  regard  to  Him 
and  to  honour  Him  as  such.  He  was  to  impress  on 
them  the  great  principle  of  national  prosperity,  to  teach 
them  that  the  one  unfailing  source  of  blessing  was  the 
active  favour  of  God.  It  was  their  sin  and  their  misery 
alike  that  they  not  only  did  not  take  the  right  means 
to  secure  God's  favour,  but,  on  the  contrary,  provoked 
Him  to  anger  by  their  sins. 

Now  there  were  two  things  about  God  that  Samuel 
was  most  earnest  in  pressing.  The  one  was  His  holi- 
ness, the  other  His  spirituality.  The  righteous  Lord 
loved  righteousness.  No  amount  of  ritual  service  could 
compensate  the  want  of  moral  obedience.  ^'  Behold,  to 
obey  is  better  than  sacrifice,  and  to  hearken  than  the 
fat  of  rams."  If  they  would  enjoy  His  favour,  they 
must  search  out  their  sins,  and  humble  themselves  for 
them  before  this  holy  God.  The  other  earnest  lesson 
was  God's  spirituality.  Not  only  was  all  idolatry  and 
image-worship  most  obnoxious  to  Him,  but  no  service 
was  acceptable  which  did  not  come  from  the  heart. 
Hence  the  great  value  of  prayer.  It  was  Samuel's 
privilege  to  show  the  people  what  prayer  could  do.  He 
showed   them  prayer,   when  it  arose   from  a   humble. 


IHE    TWO  BOOKS   OF  SAMUEL.  393 

penitent  spirit,  moving  the  Hand  that  moved  the  uni- 
verse.    He  endeavoured  to  inspire  them  with  heartfelt  I 
regard  to  God  as  their  King,  and  with  supreme  honour           f 
for  Him  in  all    the  transactions    both    of  public   and           | 
private  Hfe.     That  was  the  groove  in  which  he  tried  to           | 
move  the  nation,  for  in  that  course  alone  he  was  per-           | 
suaded  that  their  true  interest  lay.     To  a  large  extent,           f 
Samuel  was  successful  in  this  endeavour.     His  spirit           [ 
was  very  different  from  the  languid  timidity  of  Eli.    He           [ 
spoke  with  a  voice  that  evoked  an  echo.     He  raised  the           ' 
nation   to  a  higher  moral   and  spiritual  platform,  and           | 
brought  them  nearer  to  their  heavenly  King.     Seldom           \ 
has  such  proof  been  given  of  the  almost    unbounded           j 
moral    power  attainable  by  one  man,  if  he  but  be  of          ^ 
single  eye  and  immovable  will.                                                      | 
But,  as  we  have  said,  Samuel  was  neither  priest  nor          | 
king;    his  conquests  were  the   conquests  of  character          \ 
alone.     The   people   clamoured   for   a    king,   certainly          \ 
from   inferior   motives,    and    Samuel   yielded    to    their          I 
clamour.     It  would  have  been  a  splendid  thing  for  the          I 
nation  to  have  got  an  ideal   king,  a  king  adapted  for          | 
such  a  kingdom,  as  deeply  impressed  as  Samuel  was          5 
with  his   obligation    to   honour    God,  and  ruling  over          \ 
them  with  the  same  regard  for  the  law  and  covenant  of         | 
Israel.     But  such  was  not  to  be  their  first  king.     Some          t 
correction  was  due  to  them  for  having  been  impatient          | 
of  God's  arrangements,  and  so  eager  to  have  their  own          [i 
wishes    complied  with.     Saul  was    to   be  as  much   an         | 
instrument  of  humiliation  as  a  source  of  blessing.                     | 
III.  And  this  brings  us  to  the  third  act  of  the  drama.         ? 
Saul  the  son  of  Kish  begins  well,  but  he  turns  aside         | 
soon.     He  has  ability,  he  has  activity,  he  has  abundant         ; 
opportunity  to  make    the    necessary  external  arrange-         | 
ments  for  the  welfare  of  the  nation ;    but  he  has  no         | 


394  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL,  \ 

heart  for  the  primary  condition  of  blessing.     At  first      ; 
he  feels  constrained  to  honour  God ;  he  accepts  from      ; 
Samuel  the  law  of  the  kingdom  and   tries  to  govern      i 
accordingly.     He  could  not  well  have  done  otherwise.      | 
He  could  not  decently  have  accepted  the  office  of  king      1 
at  the  hands  of  Samuel  without  promising  and  without       i 
trying  to  have  regard  to  the  mode  of  ruling  which  the 
king-maker  so  earnestly  pressed  on  him.     But  Saul's       I 
efforts  to   honour   God  shared  the   fate  of  all   simxilar       i 
efforts  when  the  force  that  impels  to  them  is  pressure       | 
from    without,   not    heartiness    within.     Like  a    rower       ! 
pulling  against  wind   and    tide,   he   soon    tired.     And       I 
when  he  tired  of  trying  to  rule  as  God  would  have  him,        I 
and  fell  back  on  his  own  way  of  it,  he  seemed  all  the 
more  wilful  for  the  very  fact  that  he  had  tried  at  first        ! 
to  repress  his  own  will.     Externally  he  was  active  and 
for  a  time  successful,  but  internally  he  went  from  bad 
to  worse.     Under  Saul,  the  process  of  training  Israel 
to  fear  and  honour  God  made  no  progress  whatever.        ; 
The  whole  force   of  the  governing  power  was  in  the        | 
opposite  direction.     One  thing  is  to  be  said  in  favour         \ 
of  Saul — he  was  no  idolater.     He  did  not  encourage         \ 
any   outward    departure    from    the   worship    of    God.         ( 
Neither   Baal   nor   Ashtaroth,    Moloch    nor   Chemosh,         \ 
received  any  countenance  at  his  hands.     The  Second         | 
Commandment  was  at  least  outwardly  observed.  | 

But  for  all  that,  Saul  was  the  active,  inveterate,  and  | 
bitter  persecutor  of  what  we  may  call  God's  interest  \ 
in  the  kingdom.     There  was  no  real  sympathy  between  \ 

him  and  Samuel ;  but  as  Samuel  did  not  cross  his  path;  \ 

he  left  him  comparatively  alone.     It  was  very  different  j 

in  the  case  of  David.     In  Saul's  relation  to  David  we 
see  the  old  antagonism — the  antagonism  of  nature  and  ■; 

grace,  of  the  seed  of  the  serpent  and  the  seed  of  the         ) 


THE    TWO   BOOKS  OF  SAMUEL.  3^5 


woman,  of  those  born  after  the  flesh  and  those  born 
after  the  Spirit.  Here  is  the  most  painful  feature  of 
Saul's  administration.     Knowing,  as  he  did,  that  David  | 

enjoyed    God's    favour   in    a    very    special    degree,    he  \ 

ought  to  have  respected  him  the  more.     In  reahty  he  | 

hated  him  the  more.     Jealousy  is  a  blind  and  stupid  \ 

passion.     It  mattered  nothing  to  Saul  that  David  was  \ 

a  man  after  God's  own  heart,  except  that  it  made  him.        j' 
more  fierce  against  him.     How  could  a  theocratic  king-         | 
dom  prosper  when  the  head  of  it  raged  against  God's         i 
anointed    one,    and    strained    every    nerve    to    destroy         ! 
him  ?     The  whole  policy  of  Saul  was  a  fatal  blunder. 
Under   him,    the   nation,  instead    of  being   trained    to         ; 
serve  God  better,  and  realise  the  end  of  their  selection 
more  faithfully,  were  carried  in  the  opposite  direction.         ; 
And  Saul  lived  to  see  into  what  confusion  and  misery 
he  had  dragged  them  by  his  wilful  and  godless  rule.         [ 
No    man    ever    led    himself    into    a    more    humiliating        \ 
maze,   and   no   man   ever    died    in    circumstances   that        ; 
proclaimed  more  clearly  that  his  life  had  been  both  a        i 
failure  and  a  crime.  ! 

IV.  The   fourth   act  of  the  drama  is  a  great   con-        I 
trast  to  the  third.     It  opens  at  Hebron,  that  place  of        ■ 
venerable   memories,   where  a  young    king,  inheriting        J 
Abraham's  faith,  sets  himself,  heart  and  soul,  to  make        j 
the   nation  of  Israel  what   God  would   have   it  to  be.        •{ 
Trained  in  the  school  of  adversity,  his  feet  had  some-       | 
times  slipped  ;   but  on  the  whole   he   had  profited   by       \ 
his  teacher;   he  had   learned   a  great  lesson  of  trust,       \ 
and  knowing  something  of  the  treachery  of  his  own       [ 
heart,    he    had    committed    himself    to    God,    and    his       j 
whole   desire  and  ambition  was   to  be   God's  servant.       I 
For  a  long  time  he  is  occupied  in  getting  rid  of  enemies,       } 
and  securing  the  tranquillity  of  the  kingdom.     When       | 


THE  SECOND   BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 


that    object   is    gained,   he   sets   himself  to   the  great       I 
business  of  his  life.     He  places  the  symbol  of  God's 
presence   and    covenant    in    the   securest   spot   in   the 
kingdom,  and  where   it  is   at   once    most   central  and       ! 
most   conspicuous.     He  proposes,   after  his   wars  are       j 
over,  and  when  he  has  not  onl}^  become  a  great  king,        | 
but  amassed  great  treasure,  to  employ  this  treasure  in        i 
building  a  stately  temple  for  God's  worship,  although        I 
he  is  not  allowed  to  carry  out  that  purpose.     He  re-        ! 
models  the  economy  of  priests   and   Levites,  making        { 
arrangements  for  the  miore  orderly  and  effective  cele- 
bration of  all  the  service  in  the  capital  and  throughout 
the  kingdom  for  which  they  were  designed.     He  places 
the  whole  administration  of  the  kingdom  under  distinct 
departments,   putting  at   the   head   of  each  the  officer 
that    is    best     fitted    for    the     effective    discharge    of 
its   duties.     In   all  these    arrangements,   and   in  other 
arrangements  more  directly   adapted    to    the    end,    he 
sought  to  promote  throughout  his  kingdom  the  spirit         t 
that   fears    and    honours    God.     And    more  especially         1 
did   he   labour   for  this  in   that   most  interesting  field         j 
for   which    he   was    so    well    adapted — the  writing   of         [ 
songs    fitted    for    God's    public    service,    and    accom-         | 
panied   by  the   instruments   of  music  in  which   he  so  | 

greatly  delighted.     Need  we  say  how  his  whole  soul  | 

v/as   thrown   into    this    service  ?     Need   we   say  how '        | 
wonderfully  he  succeeded  in  it,  not  only  in  the  songs  | 

which  he  wrote  personally,  but  in  the  school  of  like-  ^ 

minded  men  which    he    originated,  whose  songs  were  j 

worthy    to    rank    with  -  his    own  ?      The    whole    col-  | 

lection,  for  well-nigh  three  thousand  years,  has   been  ; 

by  far  the  best  aid  to  devotion  the  Church  of  God  has 
ever  known,  and  the  best  means  of  promoting  that 
fellowship  with  God  of  which  his  own  life  and  expe- 


THE    TWO  BOOKS   OF  SAMUEL.  397 

rience  furnished  the  finest  sample.  No  words  can 
tell  the  effect  of  this  step  in  guiding  the  nation  to  a 
due  reverence  for  God,  and  stimulating  them  to  the 
faithful  discharge  of  the  high  ends  for  which  they  had 
been  chosen. 

Beautiful  and  most  promising  was  the  state  of  the 
nation  at  one  period  of  his  life.     Unbounded  prosperity 
had  flowed  into  the  country.     Every  enemy  had  been 
subdued.     There  was  no  division  in  the  kingdom,  and 
no  one  likely   to   cause   any.      The  king  was    greatly 
honoured    by    his    people,    and    highly    popular.     The 
arrangements  which  he  had  made,  both  for  the  civil  and 
spiritual  administration  of  the  kingdom,  were  working 
beautifully,    and    producing    their   natural    fruits.     All 
things    seemed  to  be  advancing  the  great    purpose  of 
God  in  connection  with  Israel.     Let  this  state  of  things 
but  last,  and  surely  the  consummation  will  be  reached. 
The  promise  to  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  will  be 
fulfilled,  and  the  promised  Seed  will  come  very  speedily 
to  diffuse  His  blessing  over  all  the  families  of  the  earth. 
But  into  this  fair  paradise  the  serpent  contrived  to 
creep,   and  the  consequence  was    another  fall.     Never 
did   the  cause  of  God   seem  so   strong  as    it  was  in 
Israel  under  David,  and  never  did  it  seem  more  secure 
from  harm.     David  was  an  absolute  king,  without  an 
opponent,  without  a  rival ;  his  whole  soul  was  on  the 
side  of  the  good  cause  ;  his  influence  was  paramount ; 
whence  could  danger  come  ?     Alas,  it  could  come  and         ; 
it  did  come  from  David  himself.     His  sin  in  the  matter         r 
of  Uriah  was  fraught  with  the  most  fatal  consequences.         \ 
It  brought  down  the  displeasure  of  God ;  it  lowered  the         I 
king  in  the  eyes  of  his  subjects ;  it  caused  the  enemy         [ 
to  blaspheme ;  it  made  rebellion  less  difficult ;  it  made         [ 
the  success  of  rebellion  possible.     It  threw  back  the  .       \ 


398  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL, 

cause  of  God,  we  cannot  tell  for  how  long.     Disaster 
followed  disaster  in  the  latter  part  of  David's  reign  ;       ! 
and  though  he  bequeathed  to  his  son  a  splendid  and  a       i 
peaceful  empire,  the  seeds  of  division  had  been  sown  in       ! 
it ;  the  germ  of  disruption  was  at  work ;  and  when  the       | 
disruption  came,  in  the  days  of  David's  grandson,  no       i 
fewer  than  ten  tribes  broke  away  from  their  allegiance, 
and  of  the  new  kingdom  which  they  founded  idolatry 
was  the  estabhshed  religion,  and  the  worship  of  calves 
was  set  up  by  royal  warrant  from  Bethel  even  to  Dan. 

It  is  sad  indeed  to  dwell  on  the  reverse  which  befel        i 
the  cause  of  God   in  the    latter  part  of  the   reign  of 
David.     But   this   event   has    been  matched,  over  and 
over    again,    in    the    chequered    history    of    religious 
movements.     The    story   of  Sisyphus   has   often   been 
realized,  rolling    his  stone  up  the  hill,  but  finding  it, 
near  the  top,  slip  from  his  hands  and  go  thundering         I 
to   the    bottom.     Or   rather,    to    take    a  more   Biblical         | 
similitude,  the  burden  of  the  watchman  of  Dumah  has         I 
time  after  time  come  true  :  ''  The  morning  cometh,  and         \ 
also  the  night."     Strange  and  trying  is  often  the  order         \ 
of  Providence.     The  conflict    between    good   and   evil 
seems    to    go   on    for  ever,   and  just   when    the    good 
appears  to  be  on  the  eve  of  triumph  something  occurs 
to  throw  it  back,  and  restore  the  balance.     Was  it  not 
so  after  the  Reformation  ?     Did  not  the  Catholic  cause, 
by  diplomacy  and    cruelty  in    too   many  cases,  regain 
much  of  what  Luther  had  taken  from  it  ?     And  have 
we  not  from  time  to  time  had  revivals  of  the  Church 
at  home  that  have  speedily  been  followed  by  counter- 
acting   forces    that    have    thrown    us    back    to   where 
we   were  ?     What    encouragement   is    there   to  labour 
for    truth    and    righteousness    when,    even    if    we    are 
apparently  successful,  we  are  sure  to  be  overtaken  by 


THE   TWO  BOOKS   OF  SAMUEL.  399 

some  counter-current  that  will  sweep  us  back  to  our 
former  position  ?  , 

But  let  us  not  be  too  hasty  or  too  summary  in  our  t 

inferences.      When  we  examine  carefully   the   history  \ 

of  David,  we  find  that  the  evil  that  came  in  the  end  !( 

of  his   reign    did    not    counteract  all  the  good  at  the  I 

beginning.      Who  does   not  see   that,  after  all,    there  f 

was  a  clear  balance  of  gain  ?      The  cause  of  God  was  j 

stronger    in  Israel,  its  foundation  firmer,  its  defences  ( 

surer,  than  it  had  ever  been  before.  Why,  even  if 
nothing  had  remained  but  those  immortal  psalms  that 
ever  led  the  struggling  Church  to  her  refuge  and 
her  strength,  the  gain  would  have  been  remarkable. 
And  so  it  will  be  found  that  the  Romish  reaction  did 
not  swallow  up  all  the  good  of  the  Reformation,  and 
that  the  free-thinking  reaction  of  our  day  has  not 
neutralized  the  evangelical  revival  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  A  decided  gain  remains,  and  for  that  gain  let 
us  ever  be  thankful. 

And  if  the  gain  be  less  decided  and  less  full  than 
once  it  promised,  and  if  Amalek  gains  upon  Israel,  and 
recovers  part  of  the  ground  he  had  lost,  let  us  mark 
well  the  lesson  which  God  designs  to  teach  us.  In  the 
first  place,  let  us  learn  the  lesson  of  vigilance.  Let  us 
watch  against  the  decline  of  spiritual  strength,  and 
against  the  decline  of  that  fellowship  with  God  from 
which  all  spiritual  strength  is  derived.  Let  those  who 
are  prominent  in  the  Church  watch  their  personal  con- 
duct let  them  be  intensely  careful  against  those  in- 
consistencies and  indulgences  by  which,  when  they 
take  place,  such  irreparable  injury  is  done  to  the  cause. 
And  in  the  second  place,  let  us  learn  the  lesson  01 
patient  waiting  and  patient  working.  As  the  early 
Church  had  to  wait  for  the  promise  of  the  Father,  so 


400  THE  SECOND  BOOK  OF  SAMUEL. 

let  the  Church  wait  in  every  age.  As  the  early  Church 
continued  with  one  accord  in  prayer  and  supplication, 
so  let  each  successive  age  ply  with  renewed  earnest- 
ness its  applications  to  the  throne  of  grace.  And  let 
us  be  encouraged  by  the  assurance  that  long  though 
the  tide  has  ebbed  and  flowed,  and  flowed  and  ebbed,  it 
will  not  be  so  for  ever.  To  them  that  look  for  Him,  the 
great  Captain  shall  appear  the  second  time  without  sin 
unto  salvation.  "  The  Redeemer  shall  come  to  Zion, 
and  unto  them  that  turn  from  transgression  in  Jacob, 
saith  the  Lord.  As  for  Me,  this  is  My  covenant  with 
them,  saith  the  Lord ;  My  spirit  that  is  upon  thee,  and 
My  words  which  I  have  put  in  thy  mouth,  shall  not 
depart  out  of  thy  mouth,  nor  out  of  the  mouth  of  thy 
seed,  nor  out  of  the  mouth  of  thy  seed's  seed,  saith  the 
Lord,  from  henceforth  and  for  ever"     (Isa.  lix.  20,  21). 


THE    END. 


17981YC  34 

12-11-03  32180      MS 


Princeton 


T.eo.o,,e!,sfaa,„iar 


f  T0T2  0T268  3233 


DATE  DUE 


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